


Kings of Demise

by Fachi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternative Time Line, Blood, M/M, NSFW, Violence, also some nen experimentation, blatant disregard of peoples free will and lives, but will get pretty very gay at some point, lets pretend the dark continent arc never existed, this will probably amount to normal to slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fachi/pseuds/Fachi
Summary: For once, Hisoka has run out of magic tricks. Having angered the wrong kinds of people, he asks Illumi for assistance in a mission of two against ten thousand. But the fee Illumi demands? Much, much higher than any of the two had bargained for.





	1. Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> so this has been lying forgotten on my hard disk in 15k+ words since over a year and a half, so none of this has any connection to the dc arc and is thus spoiler-free. i dug it out today in a rather depressive episode and found it...pretty good? so i decided to throw it on here in bits.
> 
> its my first attempt to an actual multichapter story with plot and relationship development and (hopefully) suspense and also i have some whacky ideas about Nen use i wanted to throw in there. most of the major plotlines are vaguely outlined in my head but lets see how much of that i actually get on paper. enjoy!

It was a cold and wintry night in the mountains of Kukaroo. Whilst autumn had only slowly begun to settle in other parts of the country, it had already developed to its fullest in this uninviting landscape, showing a rough and icy face to the intruder.

Hisoka shivered. Wrong choice of garments so far, he thought, gritting his teeth. After all, it was not his first time running through this harsh wilderness, and he should have known better considering the extreme temperatures that reigned the impervious woods. Catching a cold in this time and age and losing as small as one percent of his usual alert was out of the question. It would mean his certain death.

The man altered his course sharply, turning left with a swift movement and aptly avoided trees as he bolted through the dense foliage. Frankly spoken, he only held approximate knowledge as to where he was heading but he figured it did not matter whether or not he would find his destination. As he was sure _he_ would be found – sooner rather than later.

Hisoka could not deny that in his stomach, there was indeed an uneasy sentiment building, nudging at his intestines with every swift step that brought him closer to his target. And he felt how much he was enjoying it! The peril the mountain was greeting him with, the traps and guards that even his sharp senses could hardly detect, the expectation of even greater adversaries to come – it was not often that he would meet opponents his league. Maybe he should pay a visit to his assassin friends more often.

The man gradually slowed his steps and fell into a lazy stroll. Bringing up one of his hands to fix his burning-red hairdo as a matter of habit, Hisoka examined his surroundings as closely as it was possible in the dim light the waxing moon was casting upon the forest. Dancing shadows of leaves were calmly moving in the chilly night. Old trees ached lowly every other second, but apart from that, the landscape seemed quiet, peaceful.

But undoubtedly, he was not alone. He had come too far to be left unnoticed with his Nen flowing out as unrestrictedly as it did. It was a giant bonfire in the deep dark of the night for anyone with the talents he sought. They would be able to spot him from miles away – but that did not mean that Hisoka enjoyed the same privilege.

The night was pitch black beyond the third row of trees. Hisoka felt his muscles tense at every crackling leaf, each one of them a possible assassin lingering in the dark. Naked twigs began to rattle in the wind that rose in a blast, moving trees menacingly in its cold embrace and – carried projectiles soaring to his head!?

Quick as a lightening, Hisoka dodged the attack to hear the impact of four or five pieces of metal on a tree to his right. Swirling around in the opposite direction, he realized he must just have avoided them by mere millimetres, having felt their draught passing by his face.

The sound of breaking twigs under the weight of steps eroded from beyond dense forest trees, bringing a voice to accompany the sound: “I’ve expected nothing less of you.”

Hisoka would have recognized the monotone everywhere.

The well-acquainted slender form of a young man appeared from behind tree trunks, emerging only far enough to allow the intruder to recognize him whilst never fully exiting the shielding shadows of the forest. He surely was not about to serve as an easy target, looking onto Hisoka’s face with those stoic pitch black eyes.

“Long time no see, Illumi”, Hisoka greeted, curling his lips into his usual grin, and really, the cheerfulness in his voice was truthful. The right Zoldyck had shown. “I thought I might drop by to say ‘hi’.”

A soft metallic “clang” echoed through the void as if to answer his nonsense, nearly inaudible in the sounds of nature but menacing all the more. Hisoka’s smile did not vanish, but neither did the tightness in his muscles. He knew he had not always proven to be faithful in their past endeavours and Illumi was smart. Too smart sometimes for his tastes, careful and weary of whatever Hisoka said or did but the jester knew he would not want him any other way.

From his shelter in the twilight, the raven-haired man spoke, ignoring everything the other had just said: “You know where you are. You know my home is a restricted area for outsiders. Yet you have come. Why?”

Illumi’s words were so extraordinary brief that before he would know, Hisoka felt anticipation rising like a flood in his chest. Suddenly he knew he had misjudged exactly _how_ big of an indecency it really was to trespass onto Kukaroo grounds and he felt his fingers twitch with desire. It would not take much to provoke a fight right now, Illumi’s weapon of choice already fastened in between his deft fingers, ready to cast them at any moment…

But Hisoka only took a deep breath. There was so much more blood he would be able to taste if he could win Illumi for him – a fight with the incredibly skilled other was certainly awaiting him in the not so distant future. He would make sure of that.

Swallowing the saliva that had pooled over his tongue before opening his mouth, Hisoka hesitated for a second.

“I have a job for you.”

The jester saw the other’s eyebrows rise to unforeseen heights. “You? Have a job? For me?” Illumi repeated in his unfaltering monotone, more than mildly surprised.

The eldest Zoldyck child squinted his eyes at the other, an undistinguishably small movement of his lids. It certainly was an unlikely thing for Hisoka to ask. The jester would usually prefer working alone, taking care of whatever small nuisance he might encounter by himself and usually, even deriving his wicked pleasures from it. _Something_ had to be terribly amiss when Hisoka would come in person to request his assistance.

A cold gust hit Illumi’s face and threw long strands of ebony hair into his vision. But when he raked it out of his sight and Hisoka saw the assassin sporting the faintest of smiles, the jester knew that Illumi knew what that request meant. And he knew that Illumi would exploit this knowledge to the fullest.

“If so, you should have taken the ordinary process for placing requests”, Illumi teased him. He knew that Hisoka could not afford to take the detour via Illumi’s father, the fact that he had come in person to see his acquaintance was prove of that enough. Really, Illumi was so much smarter than Hisoka would have liked, but it was as aggravating as it was amusing – and once again, Hisoka understood why he favoured working with the Zoldyck so much.

“I’d rather speak with you, personally”, Hisoka began, amber eyes closely tied to the unmoving face of the other. “I need information. And perhaps a little helping hand.”

Illumi was standing in the shadows with so much as a smug look on his face, heaving a breath before Hisoka could hear metal softly cling again as Illumi fastened his pins back into his belt but never out of reach. “Very well, then.”

Hisoka finally relaxed in his stance as the young assassin motioned a few steps towards him, at last revealing what the moon was able to illuminate. Glancing down, the jester beamed at the sight of a nightgown, a black button-down shirt with matching pants, loosely fitting around the legs and tucked into dark army boots. A thick woollen scarf hid his throat and it was the only attire bracing Illumi from the cold.

The redhead chuckled, earning a pair of rolling eyes from the assassin, when he said: “I threw you out of bed alright.”

Illumi crossed his arms. “Yes, and I’d like to return. Make it quick.”

So Hisoka did as he was told. “Well, there is an organisation which for some reason is not particularly fond of me.” Illumi’s eyebrows rose slightly, an unspoken _you don’t say_ dancing in their arches. “But”, Hisoka continued, rising his index finger as to emphasize the point, “they decided to taunt me and it is getting annoying, lately. I’d get the matter settled myself if I could get them to agree to an honest fight but it is just no fun like this.”

Illumi tightened his arms across his chest when Hisoka ended and the forest glade fell silent again. Seconds were passing them by, stretching farther and farther when Illumi was waiting for a continuation, but Hisoka had already given him all he would share for now. His story left much to be desired, besides backgrounds, motives and actual reasons an explanation as to why Hisoka had not yet staged a massacre all by himself. Mercy, after all, was not his strong suit.

The raven huffed in distaste but Hisoka understood that he had gained him as an ally once again. Illumi was too shrewd to push a matter he knew he would not receive answers for, so he simply asked: “Do you want me to take care of their leaders?”

What an innocuous question to assess his objective. Short. Poignant. Effective. And absolutely not to Hisoka’s tastes.

“Let’s make it _fun_ , Illumi, shall we?” Hisoka clarified. Then his eyes lit up with vicious fire and Illumi felt as if he already exactly knew where this was going. “I wish to go on a little hunt. I want to track down every single one of them and to dissemble my little nuisance member-by-member, starting right at the bottom, slowly climbing up the hierarchy.”

Illumi’s skin began to tickle, each fine hair on the assassin’s body lifted and stood at the gradual rise of Hisoka’s Nen. He shuddered, silently, as the wintry temperatures fell into oblivion in the deadly presence whose wake he witnessed.

Hisoka began gesturing more vividly as his dark aura came to life. “Imagine the joy, Illumi! Picture the leaders witnessing their subordinates disappearing, one by one, knowing they will be next…” Rattling erupted from the shrubbery, as birds, mammals and reptiles alike fled from the strong and terrifying power the red-haired man emitted as he spoke, consumed by his own dark fantasies.

Like a warming cocoon, Illumi’s Ten fortified out of a shielding reflex. Although he knew – somewhere in the back of his mind – that he had nothing to fear from Hisoka at this very moment, all his raw energy kept him on his toes. He felt his heartbeat quicken, ready to fight or to fly at any moment if need should arise, but also felt oddly agitated by that powerful aura flowing from the man elaborating on his fantasies. Hisoka did not even seem to notice as he continuously blabbered on, now seemingly rather talking to himself than to the assassin he had sought.

“…and then, finally, I will make my way down to them, oh, I can already see them…” The jester paused, letting a hand slide down his neck as his eyes wandered off into the distance. He sighed, a deep baritone resonating salaciously in his voice. “…their crushed little forms when I slice their throat and see their life slowly oozing out.” Hisoka’ tongue darted out, liking his upper lip. “Such a marvellous thought…”

The Zoldyck offspring waited somewhat intrigued for the jester to finish his thoughts. He knew that Hisoka’s imagination carried him away from time to time but Illumi did not particularly mind. Hisoka’s aura was captivating in those moments – black, terrifying, but brimming with determination to an extent that was delighting for a change, for someone surrounded by people that thought strong feelings to be harmful to their professionality – himself included.

Sometimes, Hisoka would appear to him much like one of these newly discovered beasts, one that made him wonder how it could possibly survive in this unyielding world with its poor habits. Yet, it stood the strongest amongst all. Watching those creatures would cause both, disbelief and marvel, to unravel in his chest.

So when he heard nothing more from the other, Illumi clapped his hands. “Fine, then.” Hisoka’s eyes snapped back into reality, casting the other a slightly derailed look upon the sudden sound. It amused the raven.

Illumi opened his mouth as to continue speaking, but all so suddenly paused, pondering, with dark eyes steadily examining the other as if an unusual thought had just crossed his mind. Curious to hear what Illumi would say to him, Hisoka propped a hand up his waist. _This could be interesting_.

Illumi’s half-lit face seemed paper white in the pale moonlight, the cold beams radiating on his features erasing every remnant of colour. Finally, he spoke: “A favour.”

Not quite grasping the context of the two uttered words, Hisoka’s even features lost a little of their control. “Excuse me?”

Burying half his face in his scarf, Illumi cleared his throat. “In exchange for my services, I demand a favour of you. No restrictions, no limitations.”

Hisoka was rather startled for a moment. A favour? That was certainly new. Illumi could have demanded any sum of him – being a Hunter as talented as he was, Hisoka had nearly unlimited access to assets of any kind. But on the other hand – so did Illumi. In this regard, demanding something that money could not buy was a genius idea.

Hisoka chuckled. “Your fees have rather risen, haven’t they”, the jester taunted, “That’s a high price to demand for a little fun.”

Illumi stood unmoving, black orbs piercing Hisoka when he calmly answered: “Certainly I will not force you into any arrangement. You are free to go to demand the services of any other assassin you see fit.”

The redhead lowly hummed in disapproval. Just as expected, Illumi knew exactly that Hisoka had no one else he could or would turn to in that matter. Mimicking the assassin by crossing his cold arms over his chest, the jester’s amber eyes found Illumi’s unyielding gaze when he repeated: “A favour without limitations… so you could demand anything from me.”

“It would seem so”, the raven responded calmly.

“Like – ending my own life? “ The obvious condition.

Suddenly, distant tension arose, when Hisoka firmly locked his orbs with the eyes of the other. Silence expanded like a black abyss, bridged only by the fiery stare the two murderers were casting each other. Even the wind had stopped as if it was holding its breath and in the deadly quiet of the forest, every in- and exhale seemed to be amplified deafeningly loudly.

Illumi held the stare, unwavering, as he repeated:

“It would seem so.”

No sound filled the empty space after Illumi’s words had echoed away. Both knew the first one to speak would be the underdog of their arrangement. However, Hisoka already understood that lastly, he would have to give in. Deprived of any alternatives, the jester sounded a laughter that came unamused from his chest. “How are you so sure I would follow your request once the time comes?”

 “It’s not as if I’d agree to our arrangement without any guarantees. You’ll see” Illumi answered Hisoka’s questioning stare. “Besides” he paused before he held up a set of round-headed pins that were burning with Nen, “it’s not like I couldn’t _make_ you obey me.”

A moan got stuck in Hisoka’s throat at this presentation of sheer dominance. How he relished the sound of this! The monotone was brimming with ice-cold threat, dead-serious eyes drilled into his mind, just like the sharp needles could that were pulsating with merely a tiny fraction of the power of which Illumi was truly capable. What a mighty associate he had chosen to work with yet again! Illumi – the jester seemed to have forgotten just _how_ deadly the Zoldyck actually was.

The smile of a maniac sprawled on Hisoka’s face below two gleaming golden eyes that oozed pure lust for the abilities of the other, and he began to laugh. _Congratulations, Illumi_ , Hisoka thought as he covered his face with one hand. _One day, you will die at my hands. But as for now, I shall forfeit you my life._

As the laughter slowly died down, Hisoka let out a dramatic sigh and stretched his arms that had gotten stiff from the cold. “Very well, then. A favour it is. But I will have you cut all of your expenses to a minimum.” After all, Hisoka’s life had to be worth quite something if a Zoldyck was asking for it.

Illumi seemed satisfied. The assassin gave Hisoka a short nod in response before motioning to leave by taking a step back. He had not missed the earlier hungry expression on the other’s poorly lit features, but that was what came with the thrill being Hisoka.

“I will be readying all the required material until Tuesday morning and depart from the manor as soon as everything is prepared. Milluki will be involved, is this meeting your interests?” Illumi asked and continued after he received Hisoka’s approval: “I suppose you have a name for me?”

“Search for an organization by the name of Namekuji Budan. Their motives appear to be mainly political.” He saw Illumi following his words with eager eyes, mentally engraving the information. “One of their chairmen goes by the name of Spencer. That’s all I know.”

“This will be more than enough.” Illumi slowly turned around and paced towards the shadows of the forest. “The usual place, Tuesday at eight. Oh, and the next time you want anything”, he casted a sharp look over his shoulder, “it suffices to call me.” With these last words, the assassin disappeared back into the woods.

Hisoka stayed just a few moments longer, grinning to himself in satisfaction while listening to the rattling of leaves that Illumi’s steps caused upon his return until the forest fell silent again. Rubbing his freezing hands against each other, Hisoka pondered from which direction he had actually arrived, before he remembered Illumi’s welcoming attack. It had come from his left.

Heading for the tree to which the needles had impacted, Hisoka found four of them neatly aligned in the bark. Sparking his interest, the jester pulled at one of the pins and it came undone with much too little effort. He examined the needle, before his notorious grin crawled back on his face. _How curious_.

Pocketing the pin, Hisoka darted into the forest with full speed. He left nothing behind – except for the promise that would now be binding him to the young assassin until he eventually would find a way to break it.


	2. Kate (Pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got so long i haphazardly broke it into two parts
> 
> also now we have three people thinking stuff this can only get more confusing  
> witness: me trying to lay foundations of what is going to happen, 1/3
> 
> also: the notes at the end of the chapter are v important. please read them.

Hisoka leaned against the wooden panelled wall, a lit cigarette tucked between his lips, and wondered when he last had killed somebody whose blood had been worth spilling. He could not seem to remember.

For most of his life, shedding blood had been the only thing that had been granting him any satisfaction, but somehow it just did not suffice any more. It was not that the sight of blood would bore him –it simply was never enough. Hisoka needed more but at least he knew what, or much rather _whom_ he needed: The One worthy to kill.

Mild autumn air danced through his leisurely undone hair as the man released a round of smoke from his chest and watched the white mist curling enchantingly into the dark sky. At this exact moment, when he witnessed it diluting into black, Hisoka felt as if he was just on the right streak to this worthy kill. Grimacing an absent-minded smile, he bit down on the filter. Somehow, his little arrangement with the Zoldyck had arrived just at the right time.

Hisoka threw what was left of the cigarette into the ashtray to his side. Reallocating his jacket to nuzzle his neck, he slowly exhaled a last smoky breath before he turned on his heels towards the expensive upper class bar that he had left to smoke, every step in his dress shoes echoing a soft _click-clack_ into the night. Just after the automatic doors had shut behind him, he was stopped in his tracks by the hesitant approach of a young hostess who came to a halt at a polite distance.

“My apologies, Sir”, she bowed, maroon hair cascading over her shoulders, “all of our honoured guests are allowed to smoke inside at any time. I will gladly provide you with an ashtray at once.” Bowing again, she ended: “We apologize for the inconvenience.”

Hisoka considered the petite girl. He would not even have noticed her if she had not risen her high-pitched voice to him. Her frail aura barely existed. Her height was not helping, either as her hairline was hardly reaching his chest. The hostess was so very tiny in comparison to his bulky form that he wondered if he could just snap her in half. As his eyes trailed to her delicate neck, he could feel his hand twitch at the notion of strangling it, exercising a squeeze as if he could feel her flesh already in between his fingers.

The digits fell limp after that moment, however. She struck him as the type that would cry without any sense of dignity left in her body when faced with the unwelcoming embrace of death.

For every prolonged second Hisoka chose to let pass while silently assessing her form, the girl’s soft features grew more and more anxious under the heavy stare. “Sir?”

 _Zero points_.

Hisoka heaved a breath in distaste and sluggishly casted a look onto the face of an ancient grandfather clock right next to the front desk. It answered his mute question with four minutes to eight, before his sharp gaze travelled back to meet nervous brown orbs. Illumi was always on time, that he knew, but he did not feel like arriving at their designated spot before him.

Thus, before the hostess would avert her eyes, the jester clad his face in the most charming of smiles.

“No need to apologize, young lady”, he finally answered her, voice low with mischief hiding behind curled lips. Just a small step, a little unexpected movement was what had the girl twitching ever so subtly, when both confusion and relief equally spread across her pretty features.

The small dice fastened to Hisoka’s dangle earring caressed his jaw when he tilted his head sympathetically upon that display of naïveté: “I do enjoy smoking outside. Especially when the weather today is as lovely as you.”

Hisoka rose his hand, rotating it around and again to show the empty palm and back in turns. It was confusion that now entirely reigned the hostess’s face as she gawked at the offered digits. Until suddenly, a single red rose appeared in them.

The magician bent down slightly, stopping just a tad outside her comfort zone as he handed her the flower. “May I ask for your name, Miss?”

The attendant stared at the rose with marvel in her eyes, shiny lips parted in an unconcealed display of bewilderment when Hisoka ensured their hands were touching longer than necessary. But then she found her voice again and hastily pulled her fingers from the man’s touch as she hurried to answer:

“It’s Kate, Sir.” The girl almost tripped over her tongue as she pried her gaze from the flower in her hands back to the golden eyes of the extraordinary man. Hisoka did but smile at her, slowly eyeing her from head to toe.

“Kate.” He watched the girl’s cheeks light up in the colour of his hair as he savoured the syllable slowly, teeth dancing around her name as if it actually tasted well. “Say, Miss Kate, do you often come here for work?” The timbre surfaced as rasp and unmistakably seducing. It felt so natural by now that Hisoka had to put hardly any effort into showing what he wanted her to believe.

 “Yes, Sir”, freckles had vanished into red and the stalk of the rose now clearly had a curve to it, “I have been serving here for almost a year for at least five evenings a week.”

Hisoka almost laughed. _Too easy_. Could it really be that this pretty woman had never experienced a shameless flirt in an establishment like this before? Certainly not. But given that there was only one kind of men wealthy enough to spend their evenings in these refined surroundings, maybe it really was the first time that some teasing words came from a customer that was for once not old enough to be her father.

 The magician smiled what he thought made him look gentle. “Then you must have quite some experience by now.” It seemed to work.

“Oh, you’re too kind, Sir”, answered the girl who seemed to find holding his gaze extremely hard. “I still have so much to learn…” As if she could feel the fire on her face burning, she freed one of her hands and brought it up to snuggle against her cheek, hiding half her face from the stranger scrutinizing her ever so intensely.

“You’re too humble, Miss Kate. I bet you’re doing just fine.” Hisoka then slowly extended his hand to her, the offer mute but unambiguous. “Would you let me see to prove it?”

For a moment, the girl blinked like a butterfly at his palm. But then, she smiled shily as she pried her hand from her face and slipped it onto the one Hisoka held open for her.

“Are you a fortune teller, Sir?”, she asked and Hisoka tried for his most benevolent smile as a mess of insignificant energy beat against his fingertips.

“I prefer the term magician.”

Slowly, Hisoka turned her palm up with tender but strong digits. The lines running in her hand were shallow and soft, but Hisoka trailed them with his finger nonetheless, all while thinking about the sweet lies she would love to swallow.

“See your fate line here, Miss Kate?”, Hisoka asked as he grazed the crease at the very centre of her hand with his nail as he tied her eyes to his, “See how it is long and clearly visible? It means your career path will be very successful.”

“You – can read that in my hand, Sir?” The question was barely more than a whisper, but as Hisoka inched closer and the hostess welcomed his proximity, there was no real need for her to speak up.

“That and more”, he sang and squeezed her small appendage ever so subtly. “Say, do you want to have children someday, Miss Kate?”, he smirked and the girl hesitated for a second as she stared at him, but then she faintly nodded.

“I see, you’ll be likely to have twins, then.” Hisoka followed a random line with his index before he pointed to another one. “And I can see that you have a very passionate heart, Miss Kate, right here.” He rose his gaze and smiled at her intense stare, careful not to burst into laughter. “I’m sure a fine gentleman will love you dearly, sooner rather than later.”

The girl grinned, and with her flushed cheeks and restlessly wandering eyes, she looked no older than eighteen. “Thank you, Sir”, she mouthed and bobbed her head in what was supposed to be a bow but it made her look more like a tortoise.

 So Hisoka closed her palm and rested his hand on hers as he shackled her big doe eyes to his again. “I feel that I can trust your tastes, Miss Kate”, he lowly spoke into the space between them. Her puny aura vibrated in between his hands with every clearly quickened heartbeat of hers, a life force so mediocre it nearly felt ironic to call it a _force_. Hisoka squinted his eyes at her.

“How about you bring two of your recommended scotch to my table?” If he would just unleash a tiny bit of bloodlust, a fraction of the malevolent Ren of his into her right now, she would lie dead in his arms before she knew what had happened. Hisoka suppressed the urge to dig his nails into her flesh and instead gave her hands a little squeeze.

The girl seemed to take the gesture as reassuring when she beamed at him: “Certainly, Sir! Right away!”

A gentle smile: “I’m looking forward to it.” Her submissiveness started to bore him to no end.

The chime of the grandfather clock announced the end of his game. Throwing her one last of his disarming smiles, Hisoka straightened up, retrieving his hands from the petite form.

“Thank you”, he stated, then he turned around and headed back to his table. Sinking a hand into the pocket of his spotlessly white suit, he did not cast the girl another glance. Hisoka could feel her gaze stabbing the back of his neck when he motioned towards the red velvety stairs and it made his smile falter. _How tasteless_.

The jester knew about the effect he could have on women. Although his appearance was peculiar, he found that many took an interest in it. His experience had taught him, however, that looks did not matter all that much – the magic did. Be it real or fake. Indeed, Hisoka had chosen the role of the miraculous magician for himself, a role that fit him like a glove, but really, he could have embodied just anybody else. The key was to craft a dream in broad daylight, an excitement that was unique to him and only him. As long as he could uphold the illusion that those dreams were special and actually important, Hisoka could woo an uncountable number of girls. And naturally, boys too.

For a brief moment, Hisoka caught himself thinking about one of the few women that had ever made his blood boil, in every sense possible. Frankly, Machi had despised him – and she without a doubt still did. He wondered if she would still think about him from time to time, hopefully with the same expression of disgust, bittersweet appreciation and honest desire to kill adorned to her pretty features that the jester had always found so alluring. He was positive that she, too, had had a weak spot for him, but she had been too cautious, too wary of his true intentions to let it show. _Clever girl._

Hisoka released a silent hum with the grin that began to settle back on his face. Now, having taken it anywhere with _her_ , that would have certainly been interesting.

A black silhouette came into sight as Hisoka had almost climbed to the stair top, sitting quietly at his table. The redhead paced to his associate, not quite touching the backrest of his chair as he heard the other lament: “Did you have fun making me wait?”

Illumi did not turn his head when Hisoka fell into the seat to his left as he was gazing at the city lights sprawling several hundred meters below the window glass.

“Why, hello Illumi”, the jester grinned as he undid the lowermost button of his jacket and proceeded to rest his chin onto his palm, “I am splendid, thanks for asking! Is the family all right?”

Sporting a well-fitted black suit with an equally black shirt underneath, the assassin looked like he had just arrived from a funeral, but judging from the way his large pupils came to a rest on Hisoka’s features slowly, he might have as well been about to attend one. Thinking about whether or not he should even consider the nonsense of the other with a single one of his words, he swayed his eyes back to the sombre night sky. And decided against it.

“You smell like an ashtray.”

The words fell flat from his mouth, so matter-of-factly that Hisoka rose an eyebrow in surprise, before a laugh escaped his throat. It was always hard to tell the times apart when Illumi spoke a threat or simply made a joke, his calm baritone hardly betraying any emotion at all. But Hisoka made a habit out of just laughing at either of them and Illumi never seemed to mind – the jester’s taste in humour was an odd thing to begin with.

Shifting in position for more comfort and crossing one leg over the other, Hisoka only said: “I got tired of waiting for you.”

“I am not late”, Illumi countered, casting a look on the plain and elegant watch embellishing his wrist as to reassure his statement. “You arrived too early.”

Not keen on fostering a pointless yes-no discussion that the raven, having four little siblings, was much more likely to endure, Hisoka simply shrugged against the backrest. “We haven’t met up in ages! I suppose I got a little bit too excited to see you.”

Illumi decided not to elaborate on the topic and Hisoka would not have expected him to. After a few moments of mutual silence had passed, Hisoka turned his gaze to the unfolding lights of Yorkshin the large window front was presenting him, before he finally asked: “So? What do you have for me?”

He heard Illumi shifting to his side in response, saw the slender figure moving from the corners of his eyes, before a plain folder was placed on the polished mahogany table. It was secured close with two equally simple rubber bands and contrasted sharply to the refined furniture beneath it. Sliding the binder over for the jester to open, the raven spoke: “We procured any information publicly available about them, but I’m afraid it's nothing much.”

Hisoka reached for the folder and opened it. Hidden in it were quite some pieces of paper, but indeed not the amount he would have had expected. The small stash harboured – amongst others – pictures labelled with names, positions and even addresses, a rather short list of mere master data, a patchy at best organizational scheme and a few unlabelled pictures. As he browsed through the documents in the poor light of the establishment, Illumi curiously watched him from the side as he commented: “Those people are experts in erasing their existence. I don’t like to admit it, but even Milluki was unable to retrace all datasets connected to the organization and its members.” Hisoka turned the pages with sharp nails, silently listening.

“Most leads were followed by dead ends. Of course, we have only begun our research but it’s proving to be troublesome. Most people known to the public are members of the board of directors, but I assume that misses your interest. Other than that”, the assassin paused, pursing his lips slightly while caressing a strand of the ebony cascading from his head in thought, “the Budan do not seem to be an extremist group with political motives as rumoured.” Hisoka turned another page. “Rather, they seem to be associated with various lobbies and infiltrate demonstrations or fake scandals in order to guide the public opinion. Money laundering and data exchange on commission appear to serve as additional income.”

Illumi fell silent. Stroking the smooth surface of his long hair, he intently watched the jester slowly nodding in understanding as he continued browsing. The sound of paper rustling mixed into the low conversations and background music echoing in the great hall.

This could very well be the turning point in their yet barely commenced operation, Illumi figured. An economically influential organization was a much more perilous target to eliminate than a merely idealistic one. The enormous amount of money induced could create powerful enemies – far too influential for merely two murderers, as skilled as they might be.

The jester put the papers aside and rested his hands on top of the black printed lines. Looking up at Illumi, he remained silent for a while as he arrived at the exact same conclusion, his eyes stern and deep in thought. But it did not last for long.

Soon, Hisoka’s sly smirk found its way back to his lips and he raked through the shock of red on his head, combing it away from his face as if only for Illumi to recognize the well-acquainted gleam in the golden eyes. Then the jester merely asked: “How many?”

An indefinable feeling of contentment unrevealed in Illumi’s chest as he watched Hisoka relapsing into his seemingly carefree self. Yes, Hisoka craved thrill much like a drowning man craved oxygen, but he was not suicidal. He would never engage in a fight if he saw no chance at winning. But now that the raven saw his counterpart lying leisurely in his seat, presenting the most relaxed of smiles, Illumi understood that Hisoka already had a plan set out in his head. An associate as unwavering and ambitious as the red-haired man would prove as the most valuable resource to his job, the assassin figured.

Illumi took a breath before the words spilled from his lips much like gasoline onto flaming shrubbery: “Ten thousand. Maybe more.”

In almost the same instant, Hisoka released a sigh, a deep and pleasured note. How anyone could possibly produce such lewd sounds out of nowhere was beyond Illumi. He watched the jester move to cover his eyes in a feeble attempt to hide the notorious ardent look in them as his mouth opened to release a breathy and nearly inaudible chuckle. It made Hisoka’s body shake in silent laughter as sharp breaths accompanied a whisper that addressed the man to his right: “Illumi … We’ll have a blast.”

The eerie laughing fit continued when the raven set his eyes upon the large window front that reflected the faint image of a grotesque couple peacefully settled next to each other – white and black, yin and yang – two devils, each on one side of a coin, joined in unholy bonds yet again. _Wasn’t that cliché._

Illumi stared at the two translucent men for another moment that he listened to the piano across the hall. “So?” the assassin asked the reflection then. “What do you want to do?”

A grin sprawled on the blurry face. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” The music in the background died down, softly, as the piece was finished. “We will end them. All of them.”

At the exact moment that Hisoka’s momentous words echoed into the air, Illumi laid his gaze onto the shape that froze solid behind them. Staring upon the jester’s mirrored face, a young woman with two beverages on a silver trail stood as if she had been struck by a lightning. An uncanny grin answered her stare.

 “Ah, Miss Kate.” When the man she was observing slowly turned to face her, all husky temptation had vanished without a trace from the low voice. Instead, it had been replaced with a soughing tone that could not have possibly been any more frightening. “You are awfully …” A dramatic pause. He squinted a pair of narrowed golden eyes at her, just as if he knew that no matter which word would come to follow, it would sound like the ultimate threat. “… quick.”

Goosebumps rushed over the girl’s skin, heart skipping a beat before it set a manically fast pace her breath could barely catch up to. But still, all she could do was stare at him, jaw tight with panic and yet unable to avert her eyes to anything else than those horrifying orbs of his. Worse than that manic grin that had distorted the formerly oh so gently smiling lips were indeed those eyes – so cold, merciless and deprived of any emotion that it sent icy showers travelling over her entire small form.

Illumi observed the hostess through the glass as he felt the tiniest of pressures of her agitated aura against his. She seemed to have noticed it – the sudden change to one of Hisoka’s many faces.

Hisoka’s smile was unfaltering as he rose his hand and beckoned the girl standing like a stone statue to come closer. Suddenly, her body jerked towards him at the motion, clearly obeying his command. Illumi turned to face his partner in slight annoyance. But Hisoka’s smile only widened in amusement as the girl stared at him in shock.

The invisible force kept pulling her body towards the two men, so all the girl could do was to fall - or to step closer. She chose the latter, cautiously, slowly, much like approaching a tiger’s den.

“S-sorry to have kept you waiting”, she said and ineptly put the trail down in between the strangers. Then suddenly, there was so much pressure on her chest, so much force onto her body that she felt like her entire skin was burning as she stood naked in a blizzard, freezing to death. No, no, she was drowning! There was no air, no air to breathe as she suffocated in magma with lungs made of stone.

Then all of it was gone as fast as it came. _What…?_ She breathed, panted, and everything felt normal, except from the cold sweat she felt running down her temples. There was no fire, no storm. Only the trail with the two glasses before her. The mute man in black to her right that seemed to look right through her and to her left…

“You don’t look too good, Miss Kate. Are you alright?” It sounded like he laughed, but she did not dare look at him.

Hesitantly and with violently shaking hands, the girl placed the hardly filled glasses of liquor in front of the two men. She needed to get away from here! But just why was the tug on her chest not letting her...? Was she going insane? _Is...this how it ends?_

“I brought you a twenty-five year old single malt whiskey…”, the hostess heard herself speak when she paused for a flat and shaky breath. It was rude not to answer, but really, she just _could not_.  “It is not the most refined scotch on our list, but…I thought…” She should not have done it, really not, but her eyes were quicker than her wit as she threw the magician one quick glance. It was even worse than what she remembered. From this close, the man’s cold eyes looked even more agonizingly icy. “…I thought you might like it”, the girl ended, lowering her gaze, powerless and frightened like a beaten dog.

Then suddenly, the tug on her chest lifted. The hostess tried to move back, tentatively at first, but as she felt she was free she hurried away from both the frightening men. However, she failed to notice that the binder followed her movement, reached the edge of the table, tumbled over and fell to the floor with a low _thud_.

 _No. No, no, no, no, no!_ Printed pages with all kinds of dubious information sprawled over the carpet and for a second, the girl stood at the brim of losing consciousness, eyes bound in terror upon the mess to her feet.

 “I-I am terribly sorry!” This was it, wasn’t it? This was how it was going to end. The girl’s voice was faint, nothing more than a high-pitched whisper. If any of the men would just say something, anything!, it would have been so much easier to bear.

But the silence prevailed. Neither made any attempt to move and she only felt how the magician simply kept staring at her in the most unsettling of ways. So, the girl crouched down and her knees dug into the velvety carpet as she hastily started to collect the documents, trying to take in as little of their content as possible.

Names…Pictures… _Don’t look, don’t look!_ The little hostess moved frantically to undo the mess but her hands were shaking and more often than not she had to take two attempts in picking up a sheet of paper.

There it was again, that pressure, that heat, that freezing blast! It was much less strong than before but still it felt like she was about to be boiled alive. Some of the documents broke loose from her grip mid-air and sailed to the floor again. _Is this how it ends?_

Tybalt, Dogberry…a Shakespeare play? No, the men on the pictures did not look like actors. What kind of character was Spencer supposed to be after all…? Wait, what was she doing! _Stash it up!_ Budan… _Don’t look at it!_ That one bald man… _No, just close your eyes!_

Seconds passed that felt like hours, but then suddenly, the pain was gone again. The girl looked at the unorderly heap before her and knew she could have cried. She was done. With her last bit of strength, she shoved the documents back into the binder and placed the plastic back onto the table before she stumbled back. A safe distance? Not safe enough.

“Please, do forgive my clumsiness.” She bowed and it should have been deeper, but the girl felt blinkered, not trusting her legs anymore. “As a token of our sincerest apology, I will provide you with a selection of hors d’oeuvres from our kitchen chef at once.”

But just as she straightened up and hurriedly turned her back, not planning to ever come back to this table or to this godforsaken bar ever again, the magician rose his voice, one last time, and spoke: "Wouldn’t you rather stay with us and… _chat_ for a little while?”

There was only a little sting to her neck, then the bar turned to black – before black turned to nothing.

This was how it ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you what misogynistic crap this chapter was when i first jotted it down two years ago. 
> 
> Every description of little poor kate was abysmally objectifying and/or degrading. sure, it's Hisoka that describes her and he couldnt care less, but it read less like "shes weak and therefore trash" and more like "shes a woman and therefore trash". also former chapter Hisoka was overstepping boundaries to an ABSURD extend. and all this came from yours truly lesbian queer feminista. worst thing about this: i know that i actually used to believe and endorse some of the awful things i wrote. but it kind of makes me proud that im this shocked and uncomfortable about the former version of this chapter rn. it shows me that i have grown a lot, not only in writing style but also in values and mindsets.
> 
> i could talk about the misogyny that still reigns on in this chapter, about the way kate swoons about hisoka, about the way that clown man is in complete control about both their interactions, emotionally and also physically, about the huuuuge power difference they have and how i gave Hisoka, a man, complete agency about kate. 
> 
> i think its clear that kate is a device to both, to illustrate Hisoka's two-faced being and to show his absolutely merciless side. but kate did not need to be a woman for that. a man would have done just as well for my purposes, but instead i chose to reinforce gendered power dynamics. i have no explanation for this other than a) past me had strong misogynistic tendencies and endorsed gendered power dynamics and b) current me was too lazy to think of a completely new setting for this chapter that i was already 6k words in.
> 
> im aware that kate barely accounts for a character as is but also she was never supposed to be one - you see it in the way that shes never addressed by name outside of speech. but i hope that at least now she comes across less like a toy and more like an innocent girl that just was at the wrong place at the wrong time, trying her best. she deserves to name these chapters.


	3. Kate (Pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: i gave her a face. http://fa-chi.tumblr.com/post/181153407815/those-of-you-who-read-my-fic-may-know-her-my  
> \edit
> 
> you know what really helps getting chapters out more quickly?  
> losing that perfectionist attitude. 
> 
> here, have what was not polished during months on end but written in two evenings.

“Was that really necessary?”

The grin splitting Hisoka’s face in two told him that no, it absolutely had not been.

“Why Illumi, was it that tiring?” The jester somehow managed to grin even wider and his features now seemed close to breaking apart. An unsettling sight for sure, but already so weirdly acquainted that it had lost all of its repulsiveness.

“You know that’s not the point.”

Illumi could have told him at least a dozen reasons why he was being beyond foolish. He could have told him that it was never a good idea to release that much Nen in a public place, even more so because none of them could be completely sure of what calibre the people around them were. He could have told him that letting a stranger eavesdrop on their very highly illegal conversation was creating an unwilling witness at best and a very serious threat at worst. He could have told him that an unresponsive hostess standing like a puppet on strings right next to them was only attracting more unnecessary attention.

But Illumi knew that none of these reasons would matter and that the other was most definitely already aware. So the raven only fumbled his shirt beneath the suit where he had ripped out the pin now sticking somewhere beneath long strands of chestnut hair. The skin was throbbing beneath the cloth.

Illumi sighed, not quite disgruntled, but not infinitely patient either. Dealing with Hisoka sometimes felt like having to please a child. “I just don’t like wasting my needles like that.”

Of course, Hisoka had a different stance on that.

“Hmm, I wonder if it was wasted, though”, he hummed, a lazy glance grazing the girl standing behind them. She still held the tray in her hands and she would indefinitely until Illumi would tell her to stop. A shame, he found, for such a pretty young girl. And Hisoka seemed to agree, the look in his eyes heavy on her.

Then suddenly, it dawned on Illumi.

“Ah!”, he exclaimed, fist lightly impacting onto the table. Maybe it was not as lightly as he had thought, though, judging from the way Hisoka lashed his eyes at him. “You want to keep her!”  

In moments like these, Illumi perfectly understood why Hisoka loved to toy with people as much. Within the blink of an eye, the jester’s smile had vanished entirely and was replaced with a look that was downright _insulted_.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The look of Hisoka’s ruffled nose was priceless. “Why would I want to keep a puppet of yours?”

“I believe the appropriate term would be _adult entertainment_ ”, Illumi said and hid his smile against the glass of his drink. The stench of liquor burned against his nostrils.

A little pout had settled onto Hisoka's lips telling Illumi that the man could very well take a joke at _his_ expense, too. “You make that sound like I wouldn’t be perfectly able to find a playmate in their right mind all on my own”, the jester hummed as he straightened up in his seat and slowly gestured down his body as to prove some point.

But Illumi just snorted: “Nobody that sleeps with you is in their right mind, Hisoka.”

“Touché.” Hisoka’s chuckle echoed from the Old Fashioned he barely touched against his lips. The surface moved in tiny waves where his breath brushed the liquor before it fell against his lips. “Anyways, I do have the feeling the girl will prove useful alright.” He threw Illumi a pointed look, “ _With_ her clothes on.”

Illumi took his sweet time to take a sip of his drink and swallow it. The taste of alcohol was so overwhelming on his tongue that for a moment, there was nothing else to savour. But as the spirit vanished down his throat, his tongue felt warm and heavy, lazy around the words behind his teeth: “How so?” Illumi concluded that after all, he still was not a fan of liquor and would probably never be.

Instead of answering right away, Hisoka set his glass back down onto the table. _Clunk_ , went the ice cubes against their confines when the man reached for the binder whose lower right corner was now dented. It made it look even more out of place between the crystal glasses and the polished table. With a few swift gestures, Hisoka opened it and after shuffling through a couple of more or less crinkled pages, he retrieved a single page from the unorderly mess the girl had left. The man rose the paper for Illumi to see and the assassin recognized the faces of a number of Budan higher-ups before Hisoka replaced the page with his smug grin.

“I believe she reacted to these pictures which leads me to think that these gentlemen are frequent guests in this place”, hecontinued and Illumi casted him a questioning look.

The men looked awfully average. All of them were older, ranging from their fourties to sixties, receding hairlines, plump figures. Dressed in expensive suits, they would not differ at all from the crowd of rich and successful businessmen surrounding Illumi and Hisoka. Amongst them was no one like the jester, no one that could potentially catch the girl's eye.

Illumi reclined in his seat as he took the piece of paper from Hisoka’s hand.

“So you’re telling me”, he started and tilted the drink in his hand along with his head, “that this girl would remember any of these men for longer than five minutes after her shift has ended?” He threw the page back onto the binder as he took another mouthful from his drink. It did not taste any better the second time. “Even in the very unlikely case of her possessing an extraordinarily good memory, I’d be surprised if she saw anything at all with the amount of Nen you pumped into the poor thing.”

Just as expected, Hisoka was unfazed. “I understand you don’t trust my intuition", he spoke, taking up the sheet again along with a few others as he went to spread them out on the table. “So why don’t you ask _her_ instead?” The man casted Illumi a sharp look, filled with challenge to the brim.

 _As if that would change anything_. But if Hisoka insisted, Illumi would humour him - he was his client after all. So the assassin beckoned the girl to come closer. Just as two feeble legs came to a hold right next to him, he less asked, more ordered: “Do you recognize any of these people?”

Seconds stretched without any reaction. And although Illumi knew he was being unprofessional, he somehow hoped it would stay that way, just to see the falter in Hisoka’s sly grin. But he had no luck.

Slowly, the girl formerly called Kate extended her arm and pointed at the picture of one bald man labelled Minjae. The two murderers at her sides threw each other a meaningful look.

“Was he here?”, Illumi continued his interrogation and saw the puppet slowly nodding.

“When?”

No reaction again for another second or two, but then the girl cocked her head right, then left, then back and forth, faster every time like a seizure rolling in.

She only stilled at Illumi’s words: “Don’t answer.”

“Why not?” Hisoka asked but Illumi just shook his head.

“She doesn’t know. My needle people are pretty bad in expressing themselves verbally, you see.” But Illumi had long learned to read all the other cues they could give. Slowly, he piled up the sheets lying sprawled out on the table again - there was no need for more bystanders to catch a glimpse of what the two men were scheming. “I still don’t think we should rely on her word, though. She is only a human after all and I don’t think I need to tell you how unreliable eye witnesses are.”

“You don’t”, it came singing. “But ah, it fits.”

Illumi halted in his movement. It was sudden, abrupt, and for a moment, Illumi looked like a still life, arm frozen in mid-air hovering over the last lose sheet of paper. Only the swing in his hair gave him away as he stared at Hisoka, the voice heavy and loaded: “What do you mean by that?”

There was a pregnant pause, and Illumi knew that Hisoka knew how harsh it turned all the sounds in the background. But the jester only took a sip from his drink like he had all the time in the world, ignoring Illumi’s boring gaze. Deliberately, definitely. That was bad news, Illumi could feel it by the aura crawling up his skin in building anger and the grin that danced in the corners of the other’s sharp eyes.

“Ah, well, you see”, Hisoka dragged and seemed like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, “There were already plans to move HQs to Yorkshin during my time. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had managed by now.” He went to face Illumi and his features were tense from stifled laughter. “Just that.”

_What?_

“You knew that and you did not _bother_ to share vital information as such?” There was no agitation in Illumi's voice. There never was. But the assassin felt the uproar hiding in the roots of his hair, crawling over his skull all the way just to where the needles stuck inside his body. A purr came to answer him and made the flare in his weapons worse still.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_.” The remorse in Hisoka’s words was as fake as what lay in his gaze when he turned his whole body to his partner, almost sympathetically, definitely sickening. “I thought simple information on the location of an estimated ten thousand people would be a piece of cake to acquire for the professionals I hired. But I’ll make sure to keep you updated from now on.” Hisoka held Illumi’s menacing gaze with that sharp, piercing golden gleam in his eyes. If it had been just a staring contest, Illumi would not have backed down so quickly. But in this very case, it was him that broke away first.

Hisoka was right. Maybe he was being smug and uncooperative, but he _was_ right. Illumi now had all the proof he needed to believe that Milluki had done an abysmal job – and Illumi would definitely reconsider his payment. Erithtra – that desert town across the continent his brother had identified as the Budan’s nest, was presumably empty now. Really, was there any city more shady than Yorkshin as far as underground action was concerned? Illumi had yet to think of one.

The assassin stared at his slightly watered-down drink for a moment, before he decided to gulp down what was left of it.

_It fits._

“I don’t believe that Milluki’s data can be that inaccurate for long”, the raven said as the emptied glass was sitting back on the table and his tongue was tired from the spirit, fully knowing it was not making him look any more capable. But Hisoka did not seem to mind, the smile on his lips as uncanny as ever.

“Even better, that means the Budan had no time to adjust to their new surroundings yet”, he said, shoving the stash of paper Illumi had left out back into the binder, “but we might want to find a new hangout for our future endeavours.”

“Do you have a place in mind?”, Illumi asked, still not fully convinced that the man his puppet had pointed at really was this Budan’s Minjae. But better safe than sorry. Unlike most other men, Hisoka was certainly not the type to be easily forgotten but most definitely the type to be all the more easier spotted.

His partner pondered for a second. “I own an apartment downtown we can use for now, but I’d prefer changing locations for every meeting. I’m not really well informed about the area yet, but I will be on the lookout for other places.”

Illumi nodded, somewhat pleased by the amount of caution Hisoka was granting the case. Maybe, just maybe, this time, Illumi could stop dealing with Hisoka’s manipulations and focus his energies onto the case. Ah, a man can dream.

There was a small, pleasant pause in that Illumi held his hand against the cool, wet glass in front of him. Somehow, silence with the other sometimes felt very agreeable, even more so when the light from above was warm and the music in the background designed to be soothing. But it never lasted long.

“Say, Illumi”, Hisoka’s low voice sluggishly connected to him. “How well can you manipulate your needle people?”  

“Oh.” Illumi blinked at the night sky. He never had to answer that kind of question yet. “Do you mean how lifelike they can appear? Not too much, I’m afraid, steering a human is a complex task.” Illumi shifted his gaze to the girl and just as to underline his statement she slowly began to move, setting the trail in her hands down. The metal hit the wooden table hard, nonetheless.

“If I had no distractions and if I could have her within the reach of my En, I could better her movements and mimic natural speech.” The assassin made her reach for his emptied glass and it reminded Hisoka a little of the claw cranes on funfairs. Hit or miss, and he half expected her hand to close shut with nothing in between. But she then managed to lift and put down the vessel onto the trail without much struggle.

Hisoka smiled at Illumi’s display of skill. “That’ll do.” Leaning back into his seat while loosening the silken tie around his neck, the jester lifted his beverage from the table and swirled the amber liquid around in its confines.

“Let’s say Miss Kate here was right about her clue. Then chances are that the Budan will return in the next days. So I’d like to keep her in her serving position for that time. Well, at least long enough to wire the place for us.” Ice cubes clanged softly as Hisoka stopped tilting the glass around. “Can you do this?”

The assassin evaluated the question for a short while. He was not so sure whether Hisoka was mocking him or whether he was purely concerned. Maybe he was both.

“I think so”, he then responded sluggishly, “but it’ll be exhausting. I would need to keep the distance to her as small as possible and I don’t believe I can keep up my guard while steering. So I’d need to have you watching.”

Hisoka saw Illumi’s lips thin a bit more at his evaluation. Fair enough, anybody would be uneasy with the thought of being at his mercy but a skilled man like the assassin never needed to fear an attack from behind. Not when the front was being as appetizing as it was.

“I’ll gladly have your back”, the jester complied with vivaciously dancing eyebrows. Illumi nodded in consent and then rose to his feet.

“Well, I guess I’ll see how well I can do with her, then”, he informed his ally before he laid a hand onto the shoulder of the girl. She immediately straightened up and walked a fair distance from their table. Then suddenly, she bent over pressing both her hands onto her stomach and for a second, Hisoka thought that Illumi’s Nen might have eventually broken her, ninety-five points too strong for her league.

But the jester only had to bite his tongue once he saw the raven rushing to her side and heard him shout: “Miss? Miss! Are you not feeling well?” The assassin curled his arm around the shoulders of his own puppet as if to keep her upright before he slowly 'helped’ her towards the exit one step at a time and one phrase of fake care after the other: “Maybe you should get some fresh air? Come on, just lean on me. There you go. Oh, you’re really light, Miss.”

_Illumi was brilliant._

With all eyes on the fainted girl and her saviour, Hisoka turned to the lights of Yorkshin for just a moment to himself. He felt his hands shake as he reached for his glass, and finally, he had to release a silent chuckle that bobbed both his shoulders up and down softly. Why, Illumi always got him so _tingly_ he could never quite decide if he wanted to see more of him or just break him right away…

No, no breaking, not for now, Hisoka reminded himself. For now, he needed Illumi as he was, as an ally, right by his side. But maybe once they were done eradicating the Budan, maybe then the right time had finally come to take their relationship one step further? Enemy territory seemed the appropriate next level.

Hisoka hummed and turned to his drink for distraction.

The tell-tale scent of scotch invaded his nose as he took a whiff from the expensive liquor, this one being somewhat fruity and sweet. And it only got stronger on his palate as the cold alcohol slowly dissolved in his mouth when Hisoka took a sip. Its bouquet unfolded slowly but ever so intensely with every second the man chose to not swallow the mouthful. Trickling down his throat, the distilled alcohol opened a warm trail in his insides as the flavour gently mellowed on his tongue, nice and heavy, leaving his gums crave for more.

Hisoka sighed at the complex perception and took sip after sip of the single malt whiskey until the glass was empty. It seemed like the girl had been right – he really liked the scotch of her choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive rewritten this part of the chapter completely. the original was dull, boring, stupid and leading nowhere. so ive decided to pick up the pace and refurbish this thing completely. only about 5% of this is the 2+ yrs old original, which is much much less than the first half of it where i kept more than 50%. that brings me to three questions:
> 
> a) does part 1 suck in comparison to this and if yes how much does it suck?  
> b) does this even fit the style of the story so far?  
> c) do i care?
> 
> i at least know the answers to two of these questions, and maybe you do, too.  
> thanks for reading!


	4. Fireflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow 12k words in and im only done laying foundations with this chapter what have i gotten myself into

Certainly, Hisoka _had_ owned an apartment in downtown Yorkshin.

Now he was staring at its scorching remains. There was hardly any smoke emerging from his former estate so that he could easily distinguish the coal black burnt ceiling in the spotlight from the fair distance they were halting. The floor-length window front that had always offered him a breath-taking view over the city had fallen to pieces, shreds of glass scattering the pavement beneath right before the wheels of a fire truck.

Illumi slid to his side like a shadow in the dark and crossed his arms in contemplation. The area having fallen victim to fire was all the way up on the ninth floor and rather small, probably only one apartment devastated by the flames – and Illumi did not need to guess twice to know whom it had belonged to.

The assassin looked at his associate with interest. “Did you leave the stove on?”

Hisoka, instead of answering what was supposed to be a joke, fumbled for a cigarette. When he clicked the lighter open, the small flame illuminated his face for the short moment it took him to set fire to his cigarette. It might have been for the harsh shadows the close light was casting upon his features or solely Illumi’s imagination, but the man for once seemed something like defeated. Illumi blinked at him, trying to verify his impression, but the lighter flipped shut and Hisoka’s face hid away again in the twilight of the street lamps. His aura betrayed no agitation and only left the raven to wonder.

“Hisoka, what exactly did you _do_?”

The gleaming tip of the cigarette glowed red and strong when Hisoka took a deep drag on it. Slowly, he blew a cloud of grey into the dark that disappeared much too soon in the autumn wind smelling of smouldering wood.

“Mister Spencer approached me at the end of last year. I believe he mistook me for an assassin, but his offer seemed thrilling. So I humoured him and accepted his generous patronage.” Hisoka tipped his smoke, but it was not quite burned enough so the ashes continued clinging to the tip. “As it turned out, the Budan actually had quite a few interesting _acquaintances_ for me to handle. That is, until their latest call in August.”

The heads of two fire fighters poked out from the shattered glass of Hisoka’s former estate. It seemed like the peril was over as the first few residents, standing in front of the building wrapped in coats and blankets, were led back inside. Illumi slowly leaned against a lamp post to his side, his eyes following the small crowd but his ears tuned to Hisoka.

“Someone decided to doubt my ability to solve the case at hand alone and equipped me with a team of watchdogs”, he paused and Illumi heard the tell-tale sound of burning tobacco. “A rather incompetent hand of middle-ranked functionaries that just so happened to stand in my way of attack. Needless to say I was the only one that came back victorious.”

_Ah, so that’s what it was._

“Let me guess”, Illumi interrupted him as a number of fire fighters exited the building. “You _handled_ someone you should’ve left unhandled, am I right?”

 Hisoka exhaled a bad-smelling breath. “Word’s out that Spencer’s son was amongst them.”

“I see. So this is V for vendetta.” Illumi’s tone was as diplomatic as it possibly could have been with that slightly off pop cultural reference but Hisoka chuckled nonetheless.

“I suppose so.”

Not the worst circumstances to work with, Illumi thought. Vendettas were highly personal and immediately over once they would just take out the right people. But then again, the assassin knew that Hisoka would keep insisting on his whim, his own personal grudge and Illumi wondered what else might have happened that the man slowly savouring the night air through a thick layer of tobacco wanted to wreak havoc as he did.

Two police cars were pulling up to the crime scene, but Hisoka obviously had already lost interest in the sight. He turned to Illumi as he took the cigarette from his mouth.

“Lucky we have the girl”, he commented over the sound of sirens, every word of his embodied in a grey cloud from his lips.

“You’re still so positive she won’t be a waste of our time, are you” Illumi stated, gaze only grazing the lifeless figure in the shadows behind them. But Hisoka only shook his head.

“If you were about to commit an arson attack, what would be the first thing you’d do?”

“Oh.” Illumi understood. “Easy. Check if my target was inside.”

“Exactly. So either the Budan employ the worst assassins your profession has ever heard of or _this_ ” Hisoka pointed his almost entirely burnt smoke at his former flat, “is a warning. One that speaks of a clear misunderstanding of my character, if you asked me.”

He retrieved a little metal case from the insides of his jacket, opened it and stubbed out the remainder of his smoke inside the silver box. Illumi caught himself staring a little bit too puzzledly at the small cartridge that already had the butts of three or four former cigarettes sticking out in all directions. Hisoka was the first person he knew that would not just throw his fags onto the pavement. It was weird, considering how the man was usually so at ease with leaving every other bit of chaos in his life for somebody else to tidy. And yet it also fit him so perfectly in his carefully crafted demeanour, in the tailored white suit, in the flawless makeup, in the well-kept hair.

Meticulously manicured nails flipped the fancy ashtray shut before Hisoka put it back into his breast pocket, continuing his train of thought as if he had not just given Illumi another puzzle piece that fit nowhere to what he understood about the man.

“I hardly spend any night in Yorkshin. And I was out of town just until earlier.” Hisoka sought his gaze and suddenly, the raven realized he had been watching the other for a while now. “Nobody except for you could have known that I’d be here tonight, unless-”, he paused, throwing Illumi a meaningful look.

“You’ve been spotted”, Illumi finished his sentence. _They’ve_ been spotted. Blinking at two golden eyes shining even amongst dim streetlights, Illumi found it difficult not to admire the other’s wit even if just for a moment. Hisoka had been right, the Budan, at least parts of it, were in Yorkshin.

Turning his back to his former estate and crossing it from his memories, Hisoka slowly walked in the opposite direction, cautiously laying an arm around the shoulders of the petite girl that used to be such a pretty waitress. Illumi did not miss how much care lay in his touch, as if the young woman was fragile and invaluable. And in both senses, she was, now more than ever before. Hisoka coaxed the empty shell into moving forward when Illumi caught up to them in calm strides.

“Chances are you’ve been seen with me”, Hisoka addressed him as they slowly wandered the dark streets of Yorkshin, heading for the closest avenue.

“But nobody knows who I am”, Illumi countered, taking a big step over a half-emptied bag of French fries on the ground. “We can use that to our advantage.”

The countless LEDs of luminous advertisements and shop windows on main street lit up Hisoka’s face as the man flashed him a smile.

“I like the way you think,” he sang, waving for a cab. “I wonder how they will react once they find out they’re up against a Zoldyck.”

“If we play our cards well, they won’t.” A black cab pulled up to the two men and their doll, hind doors swinging open as soon as it halted. “We won’t give them any opportunity to.”

The cab’s doors were inviting, the driver clearly waiting but Hisoka did not move and as long as he kept his mute gaze on Illumi, neither would the assassin. There was something in his eyes that Illumi could hardly specify but it made the hairs on his neck stand on end nonetheless. It was something restless, hungry – carnal. Something indefinitely exciting.

Slowly, Illumi nudged the hostess out of Hisoka’s grip by just a little flick of his Nen, and the simple movement sufficed that the jester unclenched his grip around her shoulders. When it had tightened, Illumi had not noticed. But now at least, he had Hisoka manoeuvring the young woman into the car and the raven circled the cab’s rear, sliding through the opposite door right next to the more or less lifeless girl that Hisoka was buckling up with care. The seatbelt was twisted and dug into her neck, but Hisoka pulled it straight over her chest before it could leave a mark.

“That’s kind of sweet, you know,” Illumi gestured at Hisoka’s hands with poise but the man just laughed.

“What can I say, I’m a gentleman”, he sang, about to withdraw into the night but Illumi motioned him to wait. From the depths of his left pocket he retrieved a tiny piece of neatly folded paper.

“Meet me there tomorrow at the designated time. And this time”, a meaningful look at the girl to his right, “no distractions.”

Hisoka considered the man for a moment when he turned the heavy and expensive paper in between his fingers. From the way Illumi looked at him he could guess that wherever the raven would lure him to meant serious business.

“So secretive”, Hisoka hummed and the slip of paper disappeared from his fingers with just a simple sleight of hand. “I’m looking forward to it. Enjoy the rest of the night, my friend, with some – how did you word it?”, he pulled back from the car, “ _Adult entertainment_.”

The cab’s doors closed just when the sizeable amount of disgust on Illumi’s face turned into plain annoyance. Hisoka waved at his ally but Illumi paid him no further attention as the cab pulled away. The assassin’s shape was barely visible through the rear window so maybe it was futile that the jester’s gaze lingered on it until it turned left at the next intersection.

“Ah.” Hisoka’s hands found each other, automatically and magnetically, just so he had something to hold on to. This mission would really test his endurance of how much he could take of Illumi’s mesmerizing power, his quick wit, his entirely unwavering stare at whatever the jester would come throw at him, until Hisoka would finally snap. At this point, it was really not a question of _if_ anymore, only a question of _when_.

 _Ah_. He was very much looking forward to it.

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Hisoka looked up palatable hotels in the area and quickly settled for one whose price was high enough to be comfortable. Just as he had settled in the next best cab and checked his phone again to give directions to the driver, Hisoka saw that Illumi had texted. The woman in the front seat shot him a suspicious look through the rear mirror as she drove off past Hisoka’s former residence and the man chuckled at his phone.

_Illumi 10:24 P.M._

_“You’re tasteless.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not really sure how illumi's nen works. hxh doesnt really give us enough information on it and i have several questions on usage and limitations in mind that will probably all come to show in this fic as it moves on.
> 
> i like to think that illumi can manipulate his needle people like a puppeteer. true in canon its said that his ability is to make people "grant him a wish", but like what if this wish would be "heed my every order"? also we know that illu immediately knew when killua had taken out his needle in the ca arc. true, it might have also been that he noticed how killuas behaviour had changed, but i like the idea that illumi is actually very connected to the people carrying his nen. if so, i think its possible that illu can communicate with his victims via their nen connection, at least while being physically close.
> 
> so in my mind, thats what he does with kate here.


	5. Oath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhm i wanted to have bi-weekly updates on this but figures that working full time and attending university simultaneously doesnt really leave much time for gay fanfiction of the internet. urgh.
> 
> ____________
> 
> Imagine Hisoka in normal clothes. imagine him sitting at a sewing machine.  
> imagine calling 911

A fair two-hour drive from the heart of Yorkshin lay what were the remnants of an industrial paradise. Concrete factory halls and office buildings of unvarnished architecture stretched beyond the horizon until the Yorbian Sea. Once upon a time decades ago, the vast modern site had succeeded in turning the city into a prestigious nest for all kinds of wealthy scum, but now the former driving force of life lay dead, forgotten and left to rot. A post-apocalyptic sight where the years of neglect had certainly taken their toll on the city of concrete.

When Hisoka arrived in the early afternoon, all he could see were shattered windows, vines crawling up brick walls, and roofs not intact enough to keep a light shower outside. The note Illumi had given him insisted on meeting in this deserted area, and although the site was huge and the place vague, Hisoka had no problem detecting the one and only aura burning strong in midst of an abandoned factory hall.

As he made his way down a grassed hill, Hisoka frowned upon how much the pair of jeans he wore limited his movements. Unfortunate, how all his clothes within reach had become a very fashionable pile of ashes. He missed the comfort of his usual loose-fitting pants, but his current outfit had to do for a first. Still, he should have had invested in a pair of spare shoes this morning when he had strolled a couple of boutiques in a first loveless attempt to restore his wardrobe. Fair amounts of pebbles had already found their way into yesterday’s dress shoes and were reminding him with every step that he would not get to feel like himself for the next few days. Hisoka sighed. _How impractical_.

Illumi stood waiting for him in the midst of what used to be a solid brick wall once. Now it lay discarded in rubble and grime to the assassin’s feet, covering the floor in ashy shades of red. Beams of the low autumn sun flooded through broken window panes behind him and bathed the man towering above the debris in light. Stale dust danced lazily through the rays as if it was swinging to the pulse of his aura – a holy diffusing all around the figure clad in dark hues, the offspring of Lucifer himself.

Hisoka had never felt as much like a clown as when the scrutinizing gaze of Illumi travelled over his form.

“You look…different”, Illumi greeted and cocked his head to the side like a cat. The holy vanished where he bathed half his hair in shadows and Hisoka could not help but chuckle at the comment. Stepping closer, the redhead raked a nervous hand through his hair.     

“Well, it’s not like I could buy my usual clothes off the shelf, so this has to do for now.” He motioned down his form, took a quick turn around to show off every angle of his ridiculous outfit. “What do you think?”

The other considered him briefly before averting his gaze and stepped over the rubble, leaving the sunlight with only broken bricks to shine upon. “Not bad”, came the short answer when Illumi was passing him by. “You could almost pass for a normal human being like that.”

Hisoka grinned. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

Illumi stopped in his tracks and feigned considering a matter of importance, before he simply stated: “I don’t like being lied to.” Then he beckoned Hisoka to follow him.

“Where do you get all your clothes from, anyway?”, the assassin asked when Hisoka caught up to the lazy but determined pace Illumi was setting through ruins and tares.

“Oh, a variety of places. Internet, tailors. Quite some of them I made myself.”

Hisoka knew the small wrinkle that appeared above Illumi’s browbone was a definite sign that he was surprised.

“I really wouldn’t have thought you could sew”, Illumi said, wading through thigh-high brittle weeds, “not with those nails.”

Hisoka laughed, genuinely for once. “Well, if that’s really all that’s puzzling to you, let me tell you a secret”, he sang and pushed a wilted twig out of his way. The wood cracked and it broke from its tree. “You’d be surprised by the number of things I find easy to do with _these nails_.”

“They seem impractical, though” Rubble shifted beneath his silent steps, while he considered Hisoka’s hand that the jester rose for them to see, “I for sure found mine troublesome during the Hunter exam.”

“You only ever think limitations, Illumi. Try thinking possibilities instead.”

“I guess cats would enjoy being petted by you very much.”

“See? Endless possibilities”, Hisoka laughed as he pulled down the zipper of his leather jacket and took it off only to leave it hanging over his shoulders like a cape. The early days of autumn in the Plain of Yorkshin were really so much warmer than expected.

The wrinkle was still there on Illumi’s forehead when he stared at the plain white shirt Hisoka wore underneath for moments on end with such an intensity that after a few steps, Hisoka glanced down at himself. He half expected to find that he was carrying his latest meal on his chest, anything that would justify Illumi stabbing him with his gaze as he did. But there was only white.

“What is it?” Hisoka asked as he rose his head to Illumi but the man only kept his gaze on the fabric.

“I sure hope you get your hands on a sewing machine soon”, he murmured, finally looking Hisoka in the eye. “This is weird.”

Why, the things that threw Illumi off were really so mundane. There he was, a top-of-the-world assassin who would kill thousands of innocents without as much as batting an eye, irritated by a simple white shirt.

Hisoka grinned and the autumn sun felt pleasant on his face. “I’m going to take this as a compliment, my friend.”

Illumi did not respond. If they both had been younger, Illumi might have argued about the term _friend_ and how it was unfit to describe their relationship. It very much was, but Hisoka had liked how it had rubbed Illumi the exactly right wrong way, so that he would not tire to bring it up just as the other would not tire to deflect it.

But that had been years ago. The word did not hold any more truth to it today than it had back then, but all the banter had sufficed in turning it into a habit, a bittersweet flick of tongue that now lacked what used to make it special since the day Illumi had stopped talking back. The syllable was still far from being normal testified by the silence that always followed, though, and maybe somewhere in Illumi’s averted eyes lay the final remnants of disagreement.

The last cicadas sang their songs in the young trees that grew out and around porous factory walls, holding them up and destroying them both at once.

“So, what did you lure me out here for?”

Why did Hisoka ask when he already knew? Maybe it was for the thrill that came with the words falling from Illumi’s lips, the usually expressionless black of his orbs suffocating as he spoke:

“You haven’t forgotten, have you? My one condition?”

Of course he had not. But somewhere deep inside, just as his makeup would suggest, Hisoka was a fool. One that had thought that he might have had a chance to charm his way out of their pact if he would just play his cards right. But whatever Illumi had in mind, it was fair to assume that he had shackles ready that even Hisoka could not snake out of.

Hisoka considered his chances when they climbed over a collapsed building. Was his whim really worth allowing Illumi a favour without restrictions? That would depend on which favour Illumi would come to ask of him, really. Even if Hisoka could not free himself from his promise, he could very much influence what Illumi would come to demand of him.

The jester grinned to himself. However prepared the assassin thought he might be for his shenanigans, he was still just one man. And making a Zoldyck fall – that was a temptation Hisoka could hardly resist.

The hair on Hisoka’s skin stood on end when Illumi led them through the cracked backdoor of one of many factory buildings. Broken pipes and steel beams were piercing the smooth surface of a flooded sinkhole inside, but the literal lake of rainwater posed no obstacle for the two murderers. Soon, Hisoka stepped over the threshold at the other side of the lake and he found himself in a place that very closely resembled a receiving dock. Tall grass and all sorts of plants and herbs had reconquered the square, only letting single pieces of concrete peek through in a faint memory of what had once been. One of those concrete blocks throned in midst of the wilderness and Illumi moved through the weeds to take a seat upon it, signalling Hisoka to do the same.

When Hisoka sat down across from the assassin on what he now could identify as a truck scale, he felt the warmth of the fading autumn sun radiating off the concrete. Hisoka found that Illumi had chosen the place wisely. Although the open space was rather vast, the surrounding buildings shielded the two from any unsought attention while yet not being tall or intact enough to grant possible spectators a place to hide. Hisoka smiled in appreciation.

He shrugged off his leather jacket with Illumi’s intent gaze upon him. When he was still folding the garment and placing it to his side, Illumi rose his voice: “Have you ever heard of a Nen Oath?”

Hisoka did not need to answer the question judging from the way he caught himself staring at the other man but he shook his head nonetheless: “No.” Suddenly, it dawned on him once again that there were many, many things to Nen of which he had still no idea.

So Illumi explained: “It describes a technique that has been passed down in my family for generations. Basically speaking, it binds our lives to a promise.” The assassin was smoothing out the folds in his trench coat with fluid motions. It could have looked casual if his hands would not have been attacking the exact same spot over and over again. “Whoever shall break it, dies.” 

It was evident that Illumi waited for a reaction, but the silence could not have been any more deafening as when he had ended his short introduction, only broken by the faint cry of cicadas from trees far away.

Illumi’s stare hung heavy on him when Hisoka simply nodded. It was not in understanding, much less in agreement, only a mechanical reaction to the gates closing around him. There got to be a loophole. There was always a loophole. But with Nen, who knows where it would open up?

Illumi seemed not to care about the man’s struggle as he mirrored the nod. “You may feel privileged, Hisoka. There are not many who come into contact with this Zoldyck family tradition.”

“I am _honoured_.”

He knew that Illumi was deliberately ignoring how the syllables dripped with irony. Something in the assassin’s poise told Hisoka that his words had already lost all the leverage they maybe once held. Illumi took control now.

“Now listen carefully. I will state the conditions of the oath and you will have to agree to each and every single one of them.” Illumi spoke like a prince in exile to a commoner. Hisoka did not like his tone, but he let it slide as the man continued: “Let me be clear on this, Hisoka. I will accept no concessions. You are free to disagree, but then I will take the next airship back to Padokia and you’ll be on your rampage alone. Understood?”

“Loud and clear.” The attempt on irony in the face of Illumi’s poise was pathetic, that Hisoka knew. And Illumi agreed, nodding solemnly as he set to unbutton his trench coat. Brushing the garment from his shoulders, Illumi revealed a shirt made from heavy fabric just as black as his hair, cascading from his shoulders in a deep V-neck. His collarbones rose from beneath, proud in impeccable posture, with one silver necklace embellishing that tiny bit of chest he showed in modest opulence. Hell, he even _looked_ like a prince and Hisoka could not remember when he had last felt this small the moment that Illumi slowly extended his arm to him.

“Give me your hand.” The gesture was controlled, strong, with so much force concealed beneath that Hisoka knew he was tense. The jester slowly moved his hand into the offered digits. The other’s skin was warm under his fingers and then suddenly he realized that he had never as much as touched Illumi before. Then the raven surrounded his wrist in iron grip and suddenly, Hisoka knew there was no more turning back from the sacred bond they were about to forge.

“I will guide you through the ritual. Make sure to mimic exactly what I do. Or else it might cause a lot of pain to us both.” _Or worse_. Illumi did not need to pronounce what already reverberated in his words for Hisoka to know that any wrong move could mean his death. “I need you to state your name after you’ve forced yourself into Zetsu.”

_Hold on._

“My name?”, Hisoka asked, but Illumi only shook his head as if he had already expected the question.

“Whether or not it’s your real one matters neither to me nor to the ritual. Anything that you believe is referring to yourself will do.” Illumi pushed his hair over his shoulder with his free hand so that Hisoka could see the intricate embroidery on his neckline. “Nen cares about meanings, not words.”

Illumi took a deep breath and somehow seeing him nervous like this made Hisoka’s unease dilute even if just for a bit.

“Ready?”

_Not quite._

“Ready.”

Hisoka felt Illumi’s aura vanishing slowly beneath his fingertips. Weird how he clearly saw Illumi sitting before him but simultaneously did not notice his presence at all. Only the warm pressure to his hand confirmed the other’s existence before Hisoka started to close the pores of his aura, too.

When both men sat in perfect Zetsu, connected only by their hands, Hisoka realized he had never shared a touch this pure. Vulnerable, powerless, unsheathed from himself. Illumi was hardly there but he was so close, much too close, a dagger right against his flesh and this overwhelming proximity almost made Hisoka withdraw.

But Illumi seemed to have read his mind when he said: “Whatever you do, do not let go.”

He looked Hisoka right in the eye, black pupils heavy and deep, and Hisoka answered by squeezing his wrist just a bit tighter than before. Illumi blinked his eyes, slowly.

“I, Illumi Zoldyck, will herewith bind my soul to my word.”

There was no more turning back.

“I, Hisoka Morow, will herewith bind my soul to my word.”

Nothing happened, but that did not have to mean anything. One second, they could be just two men holding hands on a block of concrete, the other, one of them could lie dead.

“Good. Now push all of your Ren into me.”

“What?” It was a sure way to kill him as he was now, without any defences.

But the raven across from him held his gaze, the expression in his eyes knowing about Hisoka’s thought.

“Just do it.”

So Hisoka did what he had been told and opened up all the pores of his aura just to channel it completely into the palm connected to the other man. And suddenly, he felt how Illumi did the same when the warm hand started to burn against his flesh, searing his skin when Illumi’s aura returned, fortified by a multiple.

Hisoka now understood what Illumi had meant by pain when the full potential of their auras collided. Illumi was burning his arm, the pressure so high that Hisoka felt like he could lose it any moment, evaporating against the volcano of Illumi’s Nen. The only thing he could do was push back against the pain, shoving more and more and more aura into the hand that was already full to the brink with it.

“Come on!” It was Illumi’s voice shouting over the noise of their life forces thrashing against each other, “You’re holding back!”

Illumi’s arm was shaking violently but Hisoka held it tight, undoubtedly drawing blood with his nails, until he was too numb to realize if there still was anything to hold on to. Trusting only the ache of his sinews in his shoulder, Hisoka kept his muscles tight as he shoved every flare of energy he could and could not feel within him into the man he could barely see anymore.

Hisoka almost fell against Illumi as suddenly, the pressure he was weighing his body against was gone. His Ren had vanished without his command. Hisoka tried to reactivate his aura, but to absolutely no avail as his body for the first time in over a decade was void of any Nen.

_This is a trap._

Hisoka tried again, this time just for the smallest of Ten, but still – nothing. He was weak. He was naked.

He had been foolish. Trusting an assassin in a cause of Nen – and now Illumi had found a way to take it all away from him.

The cold anger in his chest felt empty without the violence of his aura as he sought the man’s gaze in irritation. But Illumi across from him only stared at their hands and then Hisoka realized that they were still interlocked. He wanted to yank his hand out of that grip or smash it right into that blank passive face but as his muscles tensed, his hand would not move, staying in place against the inhumane warmth of Illumi’s palm.

Then he saw it.

Threads of light came slithering out from in between their connected hands. Bright like rays of the summer sun, but their signature was uncanny. _Nen_. What was missing from his body now swirled around their digits, erupting like solar storms from where their skin touched, blindingly bright, yet Hisoka could not help but to stare in marvel until his eyes burned. The golden threads of Nen curled around their hands like snakes, enchanting and warm, yet undoubtedly strong enough to tear both their bodies to shreds.

_Hisoka._

It was Illumi’s voice, undoubtedly. But it was so loud and clear, echoing from all around him, so slow, so worn. It did not sound like him at all. Maybe it was just Hisoka’s imagination? For when he tried to answer the call, the sound did not reach his ears.

_Illumi?_

He felt his throat vibrating, his tongue curling around the syllables, but it was as if he tried to speak with a mouth full of cotton. And yet, Illumi stared at him, somewhat startled, and Hisoka wondered if he had heard him like he did.

Truly, Illumi looked as confused as he felt, that little wrinkle engraved on his forehead. Hisoka tried to squeeze the other’s hand for a reaction, but he found that he was even unable to move closer. Was this what _their_ Nen did? Imprisoning them in the golden cage the light spun around their hands, stripped of any agency?

_Can you hear me?_

Hisoka saw Illumi mouthing the words as the sound erupted from all around him. The baritone vibrated in his bones, deep into his stomach until he felt like he bathed in the sound. Then he simply nodded, not quite trusting his own voice.

The bright light of their Nen reflected in Illumi’s dark eyes and dyed his iris the deepest of golds that for once, Hisoka could distinguish the man’s pupils from the black surrounding it. Illumi did not look like a Zoldyck, nor like one of the most brilliantly insane fighters Hisoka had ever met. No, in this moment, when they sat devoid of their Nen, Illumi looked human. Just like a young man still in the early stages of his life, with soft features and shiny hair and a spark in his eyes that spoke about future years to come.

Hisoka had never felt as detached from the other as when he sat sharing the closest of touches with a man whom he realized was a stranger.

 _Hear my vow._ Illumi took a deep breath that Hisoka could almost taste on his tongue. _I will support you in erasing the Namekuji Budan from the face of the earth. In_ _exchange for my unwavering loyalty_ , he stumbled over the last syllables, _I can demand any favour of you that lies in your power to fulfil_.

Illumi’s words slurred into the echo around Hisoka. And even though they were barely understandable, the jester felt like he had never heard a truer command. Every syllable appeared to weigh a metric ton as they descended onto Hisoka, momentous and heavy in the most literal sense in the gravity of their Revelation.

 _I will have fulfilled my part once the Namekuji Budan ceases to exist_. _Do you agree to these conditions?_

The air around them was too light to breathe. There were only Illumi’s words, his oath floating around them and Hisoka knew he could see them, taste them. They crawled over his skin in goose bumps like a thousand needles of light and Hisoka knew he had to answer now, or they would tear him apart.

Hisoka was deaf and his throat parched as he opened his mouth and procured two words he just hoped were the right ones:

 _I agree_.

The very moment the words left his mouth, their hands flared up like a stun grenade. Suddenly, all the energy left in Hisoka’s body rushed to and out of his palm, feeding into the light of a thousand suns erupting between their bodies. His life force seeped out through the pores he had no more control over, unrestricted and unstoppable, vanishing from his body so quickly that the cold sweat of panic breaking out on his forehead was too slow to keep up with that short moment of agony as he felt his life run through his fingers.

Then suddenly, he was tired, so tired. He did not know if Illumi was still there and frankly, he did not care. All he thought about was how much he would love to sleep, just for a moment or a lifetime, either was fine.

But as Hisoka felt himself standing at the very verge of tumbling over into endless void dreams, raw energy pushed its way into his body that awoke every cell inside of him again with rough force, but so rare and in its signature – notoriously _Illumi_. From the moment it entered his hand, Hisoka knew that what pulsed into his body was the other’s Nen, fierce and raw but so alienly acquainted, threatening all the more as it fed his flesh back to life.

Then all of a sudden, the light was gone. No more snakes slithering around their hands, feeding off their energy, ethereal and sacred. Just two men, back on that chunk of concrete in the warm autumn sun.

When Illumi pulled back his hand a little too forcefully, Hisoka realized that he was not immobilized anymore. So he stared at his hand shaking from the exhaustion in his muscles and indeed, Illumi’s nails had dug deep into his flesh, his usual, unglowing flesh. Pieces of skin were missing around his wrist but Hisoka could not care less. He was waiting. Waiting for that weird upbeat pulse in his hand to finally settle and vanish just like their connection did.

Moments stretched to minutes, but nothing changed. Hisoka twisted and turned his hand around, just to convince himself that it indeed was his again, only to be presented with the crushing certainty that he had lost his reign over it in the vow.

And Illumi sat across from him, balling his hand over and over and over again. It would not even have looked any more ridiculous if he had tried shaking the throbbing out of it like a frustrated child. For Hisoka knew that Illumi now carried the same nagging alienating pulse in his hand. And he knew it had to feel like him.

Illumi’s hand fell limp into his lap when he caught Hisoka’s gaze, beads of sweat on his temples and his poise lost in faint memory, a recollection from before they had connected one another in a ritual that more likely than not would cost both their lives. And suddenly, Hisoka knew.

“You had no idea this would happen.”

It was not a question, not an accusation, barely even a statement. It was only Hisoka talking into the space between where that little bit of warmth and proximity they had shared was crushed mercilessly by that alien pulse taking hold of his hand.

No answer was all the answer he needed to know that indeed.

Illumi had had not the slightest idea what he had bestowed upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im 100% sure that Hisoka's name is fabricated bullshit and im 110% sure that illumi knows but just rolls with it  
> "I am Illumi Zoldyck, son of Silva, eldest of Zoldyck brothers, master assassin and named after a serial killer that no one ever caught. What is your name?"  
> "Sneaky McSecret"  
> "yeah, sure, whatever bro. wanna go murder?"


	6. Wired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally holidays. unwinding is always best in the company of my two awful sons.  
> merry christmas!
> 
> ___________________  
> join me for an intermission.  
> chapter 6, aka illumi has great people skills

Hisoka had always thought he liked the quiet. But right now, he’d rather Illumi to overshare on some trivial childhood story. The silence between the two on that skyscraper’s roof in Yorkshin was stinging like an itch Hisoka could not get rid of and it slowly was waning on his nerves that for the third night in succession, there was nothing to distract him from the actual itch that crept in his right hand.

He had hoped it would disappear. In the night after the oath, his own Nen had reclaimed his body from Illumi’s aura, pores overpowering the rush of alien energy everywhere. Everywhere but his hand.

Illumi was sitting next to him in front of two monitors. Images from multiple surveillance cameras flashed across the screens in a soothing sepia, showing what happened right below them. But the assassin did not really look at any of them, eyes frozen onto the concrete floor right before his crossed legs. Yet Hisoka knew they saw nothing, as it were not _his_ eyes Illumi was using at the moment.

Rather, Hisoka witnessed the person whose eyes his associate had borrowed moving elegantly across the left screen in the upper right corner: a young woman with chestnut hair, that in the sepia of the cameras looked almost black. If Hisoka had not known she was already dead, he would not have had the slightest clue.

_Can’t manipulate them well, huh?_

Somehow, Hisoka’s stomach began to boil in hot acid at the way he watched Illumi moving the girl across the screen. At the dainty little bows and the gentle hand he used to serve her customers. That super human skill that even after losing part of his body to Hisoka’s Nen was showing no trace of impairment, no sign of damage. Nowhere near to trying to hit a pillar with a playing card and miss, nowhere near to shuffling a deck and having all the cards fall to the ground, nowhere near to…

“Could you stop that. It’s distracting.”

Illumi did not look at him when he spoke, only kneading his right hand, and the acid boiled some more.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He really was doing a good job in silently standing around like an idiot and watching out for absolutely zero threats to be found, or so Hisoka thought.

But Illumi’s eyes huffed disagreement when he finally turned his gaze to his associate. The girl had vanished from the screens, probably on hold in some dark corner.

“What ever it is that you’re getting upset about, stop that.” The bags under Illumi's eyes were heavy and dark, a symbol of the exhausting evenings with non-stop use of his Hatsu. “It’s difficult enough without you distracting me.”

Hisoka smiled at him but at the twitch in his upper lip, he knew that it lacked its usual carelessness. If Illumi had hoped that the venom in Hisoka’s gut would fade with the pointed words, he sure was about to be disappointed.

“I’m doing my very best not to die out of boredom over here. But I’ll try harder, promised.”

Illumi balled his fingers into a fist as he rose from where he had been sitting for the past hours.

“Look. I understand you’re upset with the situation but I _expect_ a little bit more professionality of you.”

_Expect, huh._ Who did he think he was.

Hisoka’s smile was every bit short of a slap right across Illumi’s face when he slowly stepped closer, his newly acquired heels giving him a few centimetres of edge over the other which he savoured to the fullest.

“I’d rather you lose that tone with me.” But Illumi was unimpressed.

“I’d rather you take this mission seriously. I’m not doing this for fun.” Illumi’s expression was dangerous, despite – or maybe because? – of his worn features, but impassive all the more, calm in its menace. But the pulse in Hisoka’s hand that suddenly beat a tad faster told him it was all just for show. Such a skilled actor.

He wanted to smash that plain face into concrete.

“Oh, Illumi”, Hisoka sang, voice dark and full of aggravation. _I will hurt you. I will hurt you so bad. I will make you beg me to stop. I will shred you to pieces._

And Hisoka laughed, just laughed as he clasped his hands onto his head, Illumi’s Ten strong against the push of his Ren. He reached for Illumi’s worn face with both of his claws but stopped mid-air, far enough to not feel his warmth but close enough to fully taste his Nen, framing his head with one steady and one twitching hand. Ready to crush it.

But Illumi’s stare was unwavering, solid in its intensity. Arrogant. Knowing, all the more, that Hisoka’s threat was empty.

“Are you done?”, he breathed and Hisoka’s smile was as sweet as it could be at the quick _ba-thump_ dancing in his palm as his Ren enveloped the raven whole.

“Not ever.” But the hands falling to his side contradicted his words as in the same breath, he retracted the swell of his Nen to his usual size. He felt so much calmer now, somehow. “Get back to work.”

Illumi blinked at him and Hisoka expected a verbal outlash at the tone Illumi was so very comfortable using but clearly so very unacquainted to receiving. But the raven only ruffled his nose after half an eternity that he bit back the obvious slur dancing at the tip of his tongue. Then he only turned around without a word, sank back onto his spot, with his back pointedly turned to the other.

Hisoka’s hand prickled as silence sank in through Yorkshin’s night again, some few hundred metres above its busy streets. He missed the distraction Illumi had offered already.

 

* * *

 

It was the fifth night of their surveillance and Illumi’s head spun. This was pointless. Steering the girl around had given them not one clue on the whereabouts of the Budan. None of her co-workers seemed to even know what Illumi was talking about as he interrogated them through the sweet lips of the girl formerly called Kate. The only thing their surveillance resulted in was in wearing him down, every evening more than the one before.

That was not like him, being this drained from just a few days of piloting. Well, if it would have been only that he might have been just fine.

But keeping Hisoka shut out from his conscience was just as draining when every heartbeat and every thought of mischief by the man standing to his side reflected in the pulse of his hand. He had never witnessed the jester being this agitated, but then again he could not really fault him for that when he himself felt his body continuously fighting against that bit of Hisoka’s Nen encapsulated in his palm.

His father had warned him. He had not listened.

Why would he never listen.

Were it the last remnants of adolescent rebellion, one he had never lived out? No, his father had never given him a reason to spite him, had he never really treated him like a son in the first place. What Illumi had done, was done out of overconfidence - in his skills, in his strength, in his understanding of Nen. But he understood nothing, and he had been too proud to see it.

What they said about pride was true. It was a sin, a deadly one to it. And Illumi would have to pay the price for his hubris.

Illumi closed his eyes and took a deep breath after he had maneuvered his puppet into a bathroom stall for just three minutes of peace. Then he could retract his Nen to where his body was seated. The midnight autumn air was cold on the rooftop but felt pleasant against the heat of his forehead.

They needed to think of another plan. Hisoka’s lead had failed, as was to be expected, but Illumi’s little personal victory meant nothing in the face of their mission. Maybe they should go investigate Erithtra after all. Maybe they should stop lying flat. Maybe they should get Hisoka back to Heaven’s Arena and put him back in the spotlight just to lure the Budan out of their hiding. Maybe…

The clatter of playing cards right next to him had Illumi almost pop a vein. He heard that sleazy singsong voice sigh over the collapsed card house before paper started to rustle against each other.

This was ridiculous. Hisoka never build card houses just to build card houses. He always kept the cards adhered to each other with bungee gum, Illumi would call it part of his training. If it collapsed, it was because Hisoka willed it to. And now he willed to unnerve Illumi.

And it goddamn worked.

Illumi snapped his eyes open and glared at Hisoka who caught his gaze so quickly that his intent was obvious, challenging the assassin to break the silence before he would. They had not spoken, not since Hisoka had threatened him two days ago. And Illumi did not know if he ever wanted it to change.

They would need to talk, eventually. But not now. Now, Illumi turned his attention back to the concrete rooftop, a sight much less malleable than Hisoka’s face, and sought his needle in the rooms beneath him again.

When Illumi found it, the rooftop before him was gone, replaced by cream bathroom tiles. Hisoka had asked him before how he saw through the girl and Illumi had not known how to answer him. It was very different from the way he used his own eyes to see, much more like he _felt_ his surroundings through his puppet. A 3D sonar of sorts, not through image, not through texture. Vague like a nightmare yet precise like a construction drawing. And impossible to put into words.

When he willed his puppet to move out of the stall, she followed his command without delay. Illumi was aware of each and every of her steps that brought her back into the bar. Nothing worked automatically, every movement was a conscious order that increasingly ate away Illumi’s stamina, until he would not be able to hold the connection anymore. But even as worn as he was, this point was still a long way to go.

Illumi reclaimed her place at the reception desk, polite bows here, dutiful calls there. Increasingly drunk customers with increasingly obscene gazes. And always an unfaltering smile as answer.

_Disgusting_.

“Katy, new customers at table four. Would you go get their order, dear?” A girl with just as brown hair and a full tray of empty glasses – Afaf, Illumi remembered – rushed by the puppet into the kitchen, a bright smile with the strain of the evening engraved in the creases around her lips.

“On my way”, Illumi responded, dutifully, the sweet voice of his avatar already acquainted after the past nights.

Only this shift. This shift would be his last.

Every walk towards the tables felt like an eternity away when Illumi heaved the girl’s legs forward. Table four was halfway across the hall, tucked away behind the utilities cabinet, but invitingly private all the more, thus apparently popular with customers. And definitely far too far from the bar.

“Good evening and welcome to the best view of Yorkshin. My name is Kate and I will be your waitress tonight”, Illumi bowed, elegant to the best of his abilities when he reached the table where eight men were seated, all probably from the eastern part of the Yorbian continent. They looked upon Illumi’s shell with the same repulsive interest as most men did, and Illumi found he would like to pierce their eyes out. “What may I bring you?”

“Ah, it’s you again!” The voice of one of the men at his left was loud and clear, a voice used to giving orders and having them followed. “Great to see you, little miss.”

When Illumi looked at him, his heart almost skipped a beat. Almost. Sitting with his back against the wall and with the whole bar in his field of vision, a bald man with the confident face of a successful leader smiled eerily at the puppet. But Illumi knew who he really was.

“How’ve you be-”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Static obstructed Illumi’s vision at the sudden sound of Hisoka’s voice. Colours flashed as the room distorted, and the assassin tried his all to not lose his connection to his needle. But he felt it slipping through his fingers, ripped away by a careless comment, deliberate in its mischief.

“Shut up!”, Illumi blurted out before he found the channel into his puppet again, just to see a table of middle-aged men staring at him in different levels of aghast shock. Then Illumi realized whom he had spoken to.

“I’m sorry, I mean-“, Illumi hastily sought to explain, “I am really surprised to seeing you here again.”

Minjae stared at him, wide-eyed, before he burst into a hearty laughter. Immediately, all the men around Illumi relaxed and fell into relieved chuckles, leaving no doubt about who the one in charge was.

“I like you, young lady!”, he howled, “Of course I would come back to see my favourite waitress in the whole of Yorkshin!”

Illumi bowed like the etiquette demanded, anger sparking in his gut that made the movement unclean and mechanical. “I am honoured to hear that, Sir. So then please tell me what I may serve you tonight.”

“Oh, I’d know a thing or two”, Minjae said, scanning Illumi up and down, the suggestiveness in his words overpowering enough to not leave any room for ambiguity, “but let’s start with a highball.”

And suddenly, Illumi knew how they would get to their target.

“Right away.”

 

* * *

 

 Every part of Minjae was repulsive, and increasingly so as the evening proceeded into the night and as one highball turned to eight. His head glowed a bright red and he burst into sweat every time he sounded one of his obtuse laughters across the hall. Illumi could hear them even when he gathered refills at the bar. Minjae’s hand weighed heavy on Illumi’s arm, his upper and later his lower back whenever he brought him the drinks, abusing every chance he could get to touch the body Illumi was wired to. It might not have been his own, but he still felt the old man’s hand, sweaty and large, against the small frame.

In these moments, Illumi was reminded of how crushing being powerless had to feel.

When he made his puppet gather the ninth round of refills, the grandfather clock behind the reception desk struck midnight. Almost immediately after that, he heard a birthday song echo through the hall from table four. Afaf appeared next to him, a lavishly decorated birthday cake in both her hands.

“Are the drinks ready? Then let’s go.”

Minjae lay in his seat like the king of the fools when they returned to the table, a cheap paper crown on his head. One of his subordinates gave a stiff speech in slurring words that drowned in _oohs_ and _aahs_ and a round of ridiculous applause once Afaf placed the cake onto the table and lit the candles and sparklers on it.

“C’mon, blow ‘em out, boss!” – “Yeah, blow ‘em out!”

The men around Illumi broke into a chorus of “Blow ‘em!” as he distributed the drinks, the childish double-entendre entertaining enough for the men raging from fairly to very drunk to having their words lost in laughter. So Minjae stood up, almost an act of violence against the opulence of his body. Both of his fleshy arms held him up as he leaned across the table and blew with pink cheeks, dousing the flames of the tiny number of candles with just one blow and a decent amount of spit.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”, Minjae answered the second round of applause with hands held high like a makeshift messiah before he fell into his seat again.

When Illumi served him his drink, Minjae suddenly swung his arm around the puppet’s waist. “You know, Missy, I couldn’t ask for a better birthday. The most delicious alcohol in the best bar of this world with the best men I could wish for.” Illumi used his little speech to take a slow look around, engraving every single one of the average faces into his memory. “And the most pretty little girl by my side!” He squeezed the shell tighter to his body, his hand travelling low.

“What about a little kiss for the birthday boy, Katy?” he sleazed and the small crowd of yeasayers cheered him on: “Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”

Illumi was glad he needed to command every expression the girl would make since for this one, he was not sure whether he would have managed to keep a straight face otherwise. So he chose a shy laugh and a hand to hide her teeth behind, alongside some faint deflections like “But I’m at work!”

This was the chance he had been waiting for.

With all the men watching, Illumi bent down to the appalling target holding him tight. He smelt of whiskey and sweat when Illumi whispered into his ear: “My shift is over at 2. Meet me at the entrance then.”

Minjae’s smile was that of a boy who got a puppy for Christmas when Illumi wound out of his embrace and took the trail of empty glasses with him.

Only two more hours. Two more hours until Illumi would capture their first real lead.

 

* * *

 

 It was nearing two in the morning, but the girl formerly called Kate was nowhere to be found at her workplace. Illumi did not care about dutifully ending her shift, hiding her body in the shadows behind the bar until he would need it again. For now, he only sat on the roof above, posture still, unmoving and eyes straight, no different from when he had fixed his mind onto his needle.

He was tired, just tired. And that little bit of silence helped easing the throbbing pain in his head, even if it did nothing against the throb in his palm. An ever-lasting rhythm reminding him of how royally he had screwed up.

Hisoka sat next to him and had stopped building his card houses a while ago. Illumi was positive that the man already knew that his mind was back in his body, but kept the knowledge to himself, undoubtfully revelling in the turn of events that pushed his ego out of its already bloated boundaries. The jester sighed, low and deep, and it sounded so full of himself that Illumi felt something ugly and hot come alive in his gut. It told him to grab Hisoka by that noisy windpipe and fling him from the god damn roof.

The raven got up from his spot, choosing to change location before his urge turned to deed.

At least they were making progress.

“Illumi?” Hisoka’s voice cut through his temples and settled in his palm, bothersome and disturbing.

Illumi stopped dead in his tracks. He did not turn to face Hisoka, not sure what that haughty face would do to him when his hand was already vibrating in the loathe taking hold of his body. It was only one sentence that escaped him, the snarl lacking from his voice all the more prominent in his aura.

“I fucking hate it when you’re right.”

Then he dropped from the roof without another word.

 

* * *

 

 Minjae was standing in the low light in front of the entrance, alone, five minutes ahead of time, wavering forth and back ever so slightly in the mild night. It was apparent that he was drunk from his flushed face and the concentrated gaze onto the tip of his shoes.

"Psst, over here!” Kate’s small figure peaked out from behind a row of ornamental trees, only far enough for the plump man to recognize the hand that was beckoning him to come join her in the shadows. A soft girly laugh echoed through the night as Minjae staggered towards the young woman luring him into the dark.

“A shy one, aren’t you”, it came mumbling as the man left the paved path for the unfortified grassed terrace between conifers and waste bins. He found the pretty hostess leaning against a white tinted wall, the smile sweet and alluring, tempting all the more. A flare in Yorkshin’s twilit night.

Minjae approached the dainty creature with quick if wobbly legs, an intoxicated beast in hunt of its lonely prey. Hands landed on hips as soon as they could, no second taken waiting for a ‘yes’, or a ‘please’ or anything along the lines of consent.

“So about that kiss”, began the old man, grabbing a delicate chin with swollen fingers in search of velvety lips. They were parted softly and looked tasty, so tasty. Minjae beamed at them, the gaze clouded by at least one percent alcohol by volume before he sought the big doe eyes.

And froze.

It were not hers. Not how he remembered it. It was her face, the doll-like features the same, but her eyes saw right through him. No expression, no shimmer. If he had not known better he would believe she was – dead.

“I think you need a lesson on how to treat a lady with respect.”

Minjae swirled around, hands flying from the girl at the sudden voice. A youngster with long, black hair had appeared from behind the waste bins.

“Get lost, punk”, Minjae grunted, words rolling from his tongue far too loosely, “we’re busy here.”

But the man just stared at him entirely unimpressed, with impossibly black eyes. They were of the exact same expression as the girl’s, unmoving, unfeeling. Cold showers cascaded over Minjae’s massive back at the sight. Why, it was just a spindly boy!

“Are you Minjae, Namekuji Budan executive for Northern Accran?”

Minjae took a cautious step back, squinting his eyes at the raven: “Who wants to know that?”

But the man instead of an answer gave him just a sigh, slowly bringing a hand up to rub against his temple as if that had been the wrong reply.

“So it is true, after all. Well, then.” He reached a hand into his trench coat, but Minjae immediately recognized the uncanny motion. Still, he was faster, grabbing the girl by the wrist as he yanked her into a chokehold, the small body an incomplete shield for his massive form, but a sure guarantee to his safety. As fast as he could with his slightly numb fingers, he reached for his own gun always readily available from the harness beneath his jacket, and pressed its barrel against chestnut hair.

“No sudden moves or I’ll blow her brains out!”

“Oh. Go ahead.” Whatever reaction Minjae might have expected, this was not the one. “That won’t change a thing for her.”

This was when Minjae realized, that little Kate in his arms did not struggle against his grip. Not even her body was tense. She just stood against his chest where he had put her, placid and unmoving. Suddenly, Minjae remembered her eyes and his fingers felt cold and paralyzed against the metal of his gun.

When the man across from him showed what he had produced from his jacket, Minjae felt perplexed. Instead of a gun, he held a small, round object in a bright yellow, almost impossible to spot in the dark. _A bomb!_

“I told you not to fucking move, bastard!” The gun found a new aim, right at the young man’s heart. Or so, Minjae hoped, realizing how unsteady his aim was in his frigid daze as he flipped the safety.

But the man across from him just stared, blankly, not one emotion falling from his features, neither fear, nor agitation, nor arrogance. He only spoke one word, calm and clear into the night, then everything stung in a small lightning of pain:

"Sleep.”

Before Minjae knew what had happened, everything turned to black.

 

* * *

  

When the executive fell to the ground, uncushioned like a bag full of sweaty sand, he took the puppet with him. Buried under a fleshy arm, Kate’s body lay empty on the artificial grass. Illumi saw the heavy hand weighing her down – and he remembered how it had felt on the back that was not quite his but had seemed like it anyway.

So the assassin closed the distance to his victims, bending one knee down onto the prickly plasticky grass as he moved the big arm from her shell.

“Get up”, he ordered and suddenly, the young woman moved, rising to her feet quickly but mechanically just alongside Illumi. Her hair was ruffled, caught in her eyelashes and obstructing her view. Not that she would ever need her eyes to see anymore. But Illumi brushed the chestnut strands out of her face anyway.

He was getting sentimental tonight, wasn’t he. It had to be the tiredness loading on his mind, mixed in with that tiny part of his irrational human brain that slowly began to empathize with the body he had inhabited for the past nights. With the memories forged within her shell, memories of weakness, disgust, heavy looks and heavier hands.

His emotions were illogical, but that was just how feelings worked. It did not matter what he did to her, not anymore. Every second he kept her body from dying was just cruel. And yet, Illumi pulled her twisted jacket straight again, neat and proper.

It was just his meaningless way of showing pity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kate now has a face.  
> http://fa-chi.tumblr.com/post/181153407815/those-of-you-who-read-my-fic-may-know-her-my
> 
> by that you see my level of involvement with her. kate is not a character, but shes become a symbol to me.  
> she stands for all kinds of misogyny we encounter in fiction and everyday life, a misogyny that i have brought into my fic as well while being fully aware of its implications. kate is a plaything, a vessel, a sexual object, a shield, passive so the men around her can thrive of her passiveness. this may sound over the top and very abstract for anybody not in my head, but im working through big big systematic feminist struggles with her here.
> 
> tbh its haunting me how badly i treat her but ive chosen a path that offers no sound way to redeem her. kate is lost as a character and with every chapter, i push her deeper into abuse. and im not even done yet. but i also draw some heavy inspiration from her, for future chapters where i still have the chance to turn the tone towards women around.

**Author's Note:**

> btw namekuji budan 蛞蝓舞団 was the name that my flat share at that time agreed to call our little cohabiting. its supposed to translate to "slug dance group". as a consequence, we painted a giant slug on our bathroom wall. fun times.
> 
> also could you tell that i struggle like HECK to find a narrative perspective that suits a story with an actual PLOT??? like personal 3rd person narrator works really well as long as you can afford to limit yourself to introspective sappy monologues but guess what? That doesnt work here at all. Is my narrator omniscient? are they simply narrating multiple perspectives? the heck would i know  
> tell me if that even works
> 
> find me on Tumblr --> fa-chi


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